Page 31 - June 2021 Litterateur
P. 31

Farhod Eshanov was born in 1994 in Margilan, Fergana region.
                                                               Participant of the Prose direction of the 2019-Zaamin seminar.
                                                               His  stories  have  been  published  in  national  newspapers  and
                                                               Russia.






                                                                         Farhod Eshanov
















                                                          Brunette and Blonde



                  Every time before her, the aroma of hot cappuccino filled the room.
                  Because  she  had  a  great  interest  in  the  piles  of  crumpled  papers  that  were  scattered
                  everywhere in my room, the antediluvian typewriter on my desk, and the garish writing on the
                  edge of the machine, she never forgot to bring a fortified drink in the morning. Her daily habits

                  managed to become an integral part of my life. The round trace of a plastic cup here on the
                  table, though I tried all night to make my manuscripts a mess, was put down by her in an hour
                  and sitting on a chair by the window, with a quiet voice she read what I wrote during the night...

                  All this repeats in a trace. And I wake up, not refraining from the smell of the invigorating drink.
                  Without lifting my head from the table, with the outside of my palm I touch the cup and wait for
                  it to cool. When did that smell become native to me?
                  I wonder if I'll ever get tired of that smell, that story, starting from my doorstep to the table, her
                  tickling my nasopharynx.

                  Then her tinkling laughter reached me bookended my thoughts, which had no time to leave the
                  outside universe, flying away like smoke, occupying my being.
                  - Tell me the reason your laugh, Aurora?

                  To avoid seeing her mocking gaze, without opening my eyes from the glass I held in my hand.
                  - Ah, Osvaldo, Osvaldo! - She went on in an interesting and pleasant voice. - It turns out you
                  have a great sense of humor!
                  I  didn't  know  that...  Because  until  now  I've  known  you  as  a  writer  who  describes  negative
                  feelings, emotions, mental anguish. Apparently, today I reinvented you for myself.

                  The amazement in her eyes didn't try to stop for one minute. I was already beginning to worry,
                  not from the fact that she was laughing, not understanding the meaning of my lines, but from
                  her incessant laughter.

                  In  spite  of  my  rage,  I  did  not  jump  to  conclusions.  On  the  contrary,  I  preferred  to  observe
                  Aurora's pure laughter. As if I understood that even brunette bodies can tweak the sun's rays, I
                  took my gaze away from her beautiful swarthy neck.
                  Fortunately, she didn't have time to notice as the phone rang.
                  - Yes, madam. Here I am, reading your son's new story. You won't believe it, but the subject of

                  his next story... Mmm... Yes, yes, I've already done everything... Yes, like you said... Okay, I'll
                  tell him...



                   Litterateur                                                                                            31



                           REDEFINING WORLD
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