Can happiness be hidden?

Happiness? Hidden?

Yes. Some stories are like that.

 

“Oh my God! Is it really going to happen? He’ll be here… Yes! Yes! Yes! I’ll see him — I’ll be able to touch him!”

 

She closed her eyes dreamily, savoring the thought of their meeting.

Then she quickly grabbed her phone, typed in the long payment details with the speed of a seasoned accountant, and sent the money.

 

Whoosh! — the balance dropped.

 

— Hi! Thanks, the money came through.

— I want it as soon as possible.

— I’ll be there exactly in a month — August 10.

— No, I can’t wait that long! Let’s do next week.

— If you add another five hundred, I can rearrange my plans.

 

Whoosh! — another transfer.

 

— Done. How about Monday?

— Yes, I’ll be waiting.

 

A hot July Monday.

Today she had an appointment for a manicure and pedicure, then lashes, brows…

Actually — no. She wasn’t going anywhere.

 

Her path lay toward a small house with rented apartments.

It happened to be on the way to the salon.

There it was — the door she needed.

 

But wait — what’s that?

He was waiting for her on a bench opposite the entrance.

He watched quietly as she walked down the narrow street, glancing back from time to time to make sure she wouldn’t run into anyone she knew.

She blushed when she saw him.

 

— You followed me?

— Yes.

— Why? I’m a free person.

— I know why you’re here.

— That’s my business. Are you going to stop me?

— I can’t stop you. And I can’t help you either.

— Really?!

— These are your choices. You’re stepping into the dark side. I just want you to know.

— Know what? That it’s a sin? I know. You can spare me the preaching.

— I want you to know that when you commit sin, I won’t stop you. I simply leave. I won’t be there anymore.

— Pfft! Perfect. I’m my own master. Go away!

— I will.

 

He turned — and dissolved into billions of sparks.

 

“Hm… what was that?”

 

She squinted, shielding her eyes from the blinding sun.

Something flickered in her memory — faintly, elusively — but the thought slipped away.

 

A small white feather had tangled in her hair, brushing her skin with a gentle tickle.

She shook her head, brushing it off, and without hesitation pushed the door open.

 

She was already inside — the air thick and hot.

A staircase, a shabby door, a button, a bell, footsteps, a click, light — and a silhouette against the sunlit window.

 

The silhouette stepped back. She entered.

The door clicked softly shut again, sinking the stairwell into heavy darkness…

 

And the tiny feather, fallen from her golden curls, lay still on the burning, dusty pavement outside.