Александр Александрович Чечитов
Measurement № 24
So on my fiftieth birthday, I started the morning with a trip to the flower shop. The rays of the warm May sun gently spread over the surroundings of our town, and my mood corresponded to the weather. In these early hours of a new day, I finally dared to breathe deeply and enjoy life for no reason. The process of my transformation took a long time, slowly crushing on the way to feeling happiness, adversity, and disappointment. Then the images and events changed much more rapidly, soon turning into a murky visual mess.
"You need to rest." The words were barely audible. For a painfully long time, I tried to remember who exactly this voice belonged to. It seems that time remained unchanged in my mind and did not require an answer. Of course, that's what my beloved wife said! When I opened my eyes, I was a little surprised. Definitely melodic, native timbre belonged to the chosen one of my heart, but not the place where it came from. Brr.
Now you are a little upset and perhaps surprised—she continued calmly—but still, it will soon pass. It looked like a round, yellowish stool with thin, thin legs. Instead of sitting, about six growths twisted into a bizarre shape decorated the back of this creature. The comicality of the situation was added by my inattention. Quite by chance, I discovered that I myself am a similar, strange, living stool. I felt a little uncomfortable at the thought that I could not remember the name of the one to whom most of my existence had been dedicated before.
