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Shall we go home? Wait, Paul. I can’t leave grandma here alone. Let’s stay here with Sammy tonight.
Tomorrow I’ll call you. I’ll think about how we should live on. What’s there to think about, Jesse? We’ll take Mrs. Booth with us.
Paul smiled back. Paul and Bob left, leaving the girls of different ages in the village until tomorrow. Jessica was going to sort through her things and old photos she wanted to take with her.
Granny, Jess asked before bed, where is Jack White now? Do you know anything about it? I only know he was in some clinic. His aunt didn’t say directly, but as the neighbors understood, he was in a mental hospital. I don’t know if he’s still there or not.
His aunt moved to the city, to his mother’s apartment. What happened next, I can’t say. Jessica slept very poorly.
She kept waking up, listening for something. What she wanted to hear, only God knew. Just as dawn was breaking, Jessica woke up again and realized she couldn’t fall asleep anymore.
Then the girl got up, pulled on her jeans and a t-shirt, and quietly left the house. It smelled of freshness and young greenery. Silence wrapped the village like a soft, fluffy blanket.
Her legs led Jess to the swamp, where last October she had thrown her jacket to simulate her death. The girl suddenly stopped, on the grass, at the very edge of the quagmire that shamelessly pretended to be a continuation of the forest path, sat a hunched old man. Looking closely, Jessica realized that he was not an old man, but a man worn down by life.
His hair was graying, he was thin, and a worn windbreaker. Jessica stopped behind a tree so he couldn’t see her. Suddenly she heard some indistinct muttering.
The man was talking to himself and crying. Yes, this man was crying, sobbing, and sniffling. A wasted life.
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