Page 47 - May 2021 Litterateur
P. 47

Short Story






                                          The Tale of Berlin




                                                      Sherzod Artikov,




                                                           Uzbeskistan




                In the morning, I went to the metro station in Cottbus. It was drizzling outside.
                When I arrived at the station, I entered a small café to help myself. Next to the

                door a poor guy was playing some lovely melodies with his violin that I don’t

                know.  Passersbywere  leaving  some  coins  in  his  copper  bowl  whilst  the  dog

                near him was looking around discontentedly and howling like a wolf.



                After eating my sandwich I drank a cup of milky coffee. Someone left old series

                of “Bild" on the table. While looking through it, the metro stopped to the station

                and I turned my attention to it which runs consistently at arranged time.



                In Germany, accuracy is like an illness. If the metro, for example, should run at a

                quarter past eight a.m., it will run. When I met Mushtariy in this station for the
                first time, it was pouring with rain.  When the metro started to move, I was inside

                of it. I can remember her running towards the entrance to catch. As I saw her, I

                tried  to  keep  the  door  open  by  standing  on  the  doorway,  yet  I  knew  that  the

                metros don’t run without closing their doors. As soon as Mushtariy got on it,
                she thanked me.




                -I’m doing this since I felt sorry for you.



                -Anyway, thanks! You prevented my lateness for half an hour to my destination.

                For it was raining heavily outside, her untied long hair got wet, her swarthy face

                was being washed over by raindrops.



                -Seems you forgot to take an umbrella.



                -I’ve  bad  memory.  Most  of  the  cases  I  fail  to  remember  to  take  the  important

                things like this.




                Her  simple  pink  suit  and  black  classic-tailored  trousers  with  an  ordinary
                handbag made her appear modest, inner peace and restraint in the depth of her

                eyes gives a person a tendency to talk with her…


                  Litterateur                                          47





                             REDEFINING WORLD
                          EDITED BY SHAJIL ANTHRU
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