Wine and Gun

Albarino turned around and unexpectedly saw Olga Molozze standing behind him, wrapped in a thick hat, scarf and gloves, looking like a fat knitted wool monster.

"Hi." Olga paused, then added in hindsight.

Herstal squirmed on the table and couldn't help but let out a silent moan.

It was his first weekend off since the Christmas break, and all the hours before that had been filled with endless overtime. Apparently everyone was in a good mood before the Christmas break, and the yearning for the holiday was slowing down everyone in the office, and now the results of this reckless behavior are finally going to take their revenge.

They won a three-month lawsuit on Friday over a media-heavy rock star homicide. In the end, the suspect was released due to insufficient evidence. Needless to say, how many extortion and bribes were mixed in. Anyway, Herstal was sure that half of the people standing on the witness stand were not very willing.

This means that he was involved in a meaningless celebration party the night before, and at this moment is lying on the bed with a splitting headache - this is not even the consequence of alcoholism, he did not drink as usual, but it was endless The old greeting is enough to be a headache. But now, Herstal could feel the amazing cold air on his luǒlu arm. He came back too late the night before, and he must have forgotten to turn on the heating after entering the house. Now the room is surprisingly cold.

Herstal abandoned himself and buried himself in the pillow for a while longer, thinking about whether he should get up and get some breakfast—even though the alarm clock in his head told him that it was already past breakfast time, and he didn't. Hungry; the freezer was empty again, symbolically filled with a few cans of energy drinks, and his freezer snapped back to its original state since the time Albarino's frequent visits were gone.

And the last vestiges of Albarino's presence in the house remain on his head cabinet: the unopened Christmas present, wrapped in a silly, shiny baby blue wrapper. On paper, it's Christmassy, ​​and the taste is horribly bad, or the two are synonymous at all.

Albarino didn't come back with him after the events on Christmas Eve, and of course this thing has been kept here, which is completely out of place in this house that has no Christmas atmosphere at all. As January rolls around, these silly, shiny wrapping papers look more like a joke left in the old days, the kind of object that's deeply embedded in this house that produces a rejection response, An abnormal organ.

Herstal was lying at the right angle so that he could see the box, and after a moment he stretched out his arms to fetch it: the thing was not heavy, and the wrapping paper rustled as soon as he touched it, like a burst of sound. The wind blowing over the branches at dawn made it impossible to guess what was inside.

For the first time in days, Herstal was able to put it in front of him and take a good look, and then he noticed that the blue wrapping paper was dotted with little patterns that were less reflective than the wrapping paper itself. Squinting his eyes, he saw the pattern on it clearly:

That's a blue delphinium with the pattern on it.

For a split second, he wanted to show a sneer, the same smile he would show at his not-intelligent intern and too-dumb client. A desire to tear something was growing in his throat, an unquenchable desire that had always grown with him, folded the light, itchy wings of a butterfly between his spine and his ribs.

But in the end he didn't do anything, just opened the drawer of the top cabinet - there were two books thrown in the drawer, otherwise it was empty, just the kind of design that just looks good, but actually no one lives in it What would happen in a teacher's model room, and Herstal had very few personal items, of course when one was always ready to start an escape—and then he put the stupid light-colored ribbon on the The packed box was thrown in and the drawer slammed shut.

So the last bright colors in the entire room were also smothered by the darkness, like a beam of light that failed to escape the darkness. Herstal sighed and pressed his thumb on the aching sun.

"I don't think I should turn a blind eye to the fate of the person who nearly killed me," Albarino said to Olga in a rather sincere tone.

"I didn't see you going to mourn Bob Langdon, or is it that in your eyes, putting you in prison is not a death sentence?" Olga snorted from her nose, and a white quickly condensed Shui Mist, she stared at the cheap marble, and then suddenly asked: "But I noticed that Herstal was not with you, what happened to the two of you?"

"Something... went wrong," Albarino admitted vaguely.

"Ah, 'question'," Olga nodded solemnly, still not taking her eyes off the tombstone, "is it about the same problem that you and your almost 200 exes have?"

Albarino laughed: "Olga, you make me look very..."

"Flimsy." Olga blinked and happily helped him complete the sentence.

"And I'd rather not use that word to describe myself," Albarino finally couldn't help shrugging, "and I couldn't give them what they wanted, so in the end we'd be separated -- always."

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