My one well-known Agnia found her happiness in the image of Viktor's lover, a short, thin little peasant, even at forty-five, but the woman, as they say in the people, is a berry again. Victor Agnia perceived as a gift of fate, the last chance in life and blew off a speck of dust. After all, Agnia had a failed official marriage, in which she was still in terrible dreams.
Her husband is a fat man with a two hundred-kilogram impotent, terribly jealous and demanding special treatment in spite of everything. And in parallel was no less capricious lover, whose existence Agnia, of course, from a living spouse was hiding. And then when the last one died, he concentrated all his attention on the lover, the only son who left the university left to live abroad.
Agnia zealously guarded her happiness, because she was afraid that none of the relatives would have repulsed or maligned. She believed in all sorts of signs, scolded, if she saw someone with empty buckets she was baptized, afraid of the evil eye of their relationship. All relatives and friends knew about this and tried not to anger her.
But as it turned out, this is not mutual. Once her niece Anechka had her first big anniversary, her twenty years, and Agnia tried to congratulate her, apparently congratulated her, congratulated her three days in advance. A sign, as you know, is not good. So Lenochka and five years after such a congratulation, she does not marry. I was surprised to see my aunt.
