Page 78 - June 2021 Litterateur
P. 78

WRITER'S DEATH





                    By the way, I work in that library you frequently visit. I've seen you there many times, but I didn't
                    dare to approach you. But next time I will come to meet you. And I will help you with my sketches. It
                    is very nice that you do not leave my opinion without attention.
                    Sincerely, A."
                    The woman deleted the new letter and quietly walked to the kitchen. She watched her husband, who
                    was  drinking  his  coffee  thoughtfully.  He  did  not  have  that  decadent  mood  that  had  not  left  him
                    lately. And in his eyes the woman noticed a sparkle. Everything is clear...
                    -I'm going to see my sister," she said spontaneously.
                    -Is everything all right? Is something wrong? - He asked calmly.
                    -Yes, she's a little sick. I'll see her and come back.
                    The  woman  went  outside.  She  walked  in  the  direction  of  the  library,  which  was  nearby.  It  was
                    Sunday. And so she found the janitor and asked about the woman whose name began with the letter
                    A.
                    It turned out that there was only one woman working in the library whose name began with A. Her

                    rival's name was Amina. The eager librarian answered all her questions about Amina - about the
                    death of her husband, that she had worked in the library for a long time that she had no children that
                    she read a lot of books, even about what she ate for lunch...
                    It's the morning of a new week. Amina, serving readers, saw a strange woman in front of her. Her
                    hateful look made her flinch.
                    -If you don't quit your job today and stop writing to my husband, I will shame you into the world!
                    Amina  looked  around  in  horror:  the  hall  is  full  of  people.  The  director  was  there,  explaining
                    something to someone. A little farther along, the female employees were stacking new books in a
                    friendly  fashion.  Fear  of  embarrassment  in  front  of  people  rendered  the  woman  speechless.  She
                    whispered faintly:
                    -Okay...
                    -So  that  tomorrow  even  your  sighting  will  not  be  here!  And  stop  hanging  on  my  husband!  -  The
                    woman hissed like a snake and with a haughty look left the lecture-room.
                    The  next  day,  Amina  resigned  from  the  library.  The  writer  was  again  overcome  by  sadness  and
                    melancholy.  His  wife  was  glad  that  her  husband  now  belonged  only  to  her.  But  she  was  very
                    wrong...
                    It's  been  a  while.  A  new  novel  by  the  writer  was  published.  On  the  front  page  was  written:

                    "Dedicated to my dear friend A." My wife, after reading the unexpected confession, was upset. Her
                    husband did not react in any way, but only sighed deeply at his wife's questioning gaze.
                    I wonder if Amina has read this book.


                    ***
                    While life was scrolling through the memory like a tape, it was time for the anniversary party to end.
                    The famous writer's wife and children were given a grand tribute. Soon his portrait on the wall in the
                    ceremonial  hall  would  be  replaced  by  a  portrait  of  another  writer.  Only  one  person  watched  the
                    raucous applause, listened to the high-pitched words, the gift of books through the window. As she
                    left the building, she turned back once more.
                    She was, as always, mentally talking to her favorite writer...
                    "My dear writer, it seems to me that there is no living person around..."
                    Clutching the disheveled book to her chest, she hurried to the subway station.







                                                                     Nodirabegim Ibrokhimova,


                                                                                     Uzbekistan

                   Litterateur                                                                                            78

                         REDEFINING WORLD
                       EDITED BY SHAJIL ANTHRU
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