She just couldn’t decide: to speak and cut off the past forever, or to keep the photograph.

Choices were always hard for her. Even the simplest ones — what to wear, what to eat, where to go.

And now she faced the dilemma of all dilemmas.

 

She wanted it all to end, yet not completely.

To close the door, but leave the keys outside.

To say “goodbye,” yet still answer calls and messages.

To fly free, but have someone offer bread and shelter.

To ask for trust, and still deceive.

 

But life doesn’t work that way.

 

Her soul kept tossing and turning, tormenting her and everyone around.

Anyone trying to understand what to do would get caught in that whirlpool of contradictions.

 

It’s hard to make a dinner reservation when there are thirty minutes left before it expires,

the drive takes thirty minutes,

and your companion isn’t ready to leave.

 

The mind splits — between the urge to tell her to go to hell

and the desire to keep the evening romantic.

But no one ever had the courage to send her away,

so she calmly finished her lipstick like an iPhone installing an update,

chose a dress, and then, in panic, searched for her shoes:

“They were just here a moment ago, and now they’re gone!”

 

And the one who waits?

Well, he wants her company — and her body.

Let him wait, stare, not understand and…

pam pam pam… there. He asked for it.

 

She didn’t like to think about the day when her beauty would no longer buy her partners’ patience.

There were always plenty of candidates — and that comforted her.

 

She felt ecstatic each time another admirer fell before her feet.

She soared, seeing how they would go to the ends of the earth,

tear apart their past,

throw treasures at her feet —

all just to fulfill their forbidden lust

and watch the most beautiful creature turn into an insatiable beast.

 

But deep inside, another voice, hoarse and furious, screamed:

“Look! Don’t turn away!

See how I kindle their passion and raise the dead stems!

They want me, crave me, need me!

Look how I feed their desire!

Yes, I’m the queen of love! Look! Look! Look!”

 

But no one heard that proud hysteria.

Except for one — a cold, indifferent gaze watching from within,

as if from a secret room hidden in the halls of her mind.

That gaze saw everything — her flaws, her fear, her childishness.

 

And if you looked closely, you could recognize the face — it was familiar.

Yes… it was her own, only older.

She even remembered the voice:

“Where do you think you’re going, with your bones showing?

Are you out of your mind?

You’re embarrassing me in front of everyone!

Shut up, you little fool!

Grooms? Look at yourself!”

 

It was her mother.

 

And with every new affair, she tried to prove to her that she was worthy, beautiful, significant.

She didn’t even know why —

she just hoped that cold voice would one day say:

“Yes, you’re beautiful, you’ve proven yourself, and I love you.

You don’t have to prove anything anymore.

Take care of your happiness.”

 

But the voice stayed silent.

And a decision still had to be made.

 

Just one sign — any sign! A hint!

 

And then she felt him behind her.

He appeared out of nowhere,

just stood there, smiling, hands in his pockets.

 

— “Need a hand?”