So the three of them were wandering around for several hours until the hapless suitor eventually got lost somewhere on the way, seeing that he could no longer even try to claim her waist or the rest of her body.
And Agatha and Arthur’s romance spiralled swiftly and relentlessly. They were completely different, but found things they did have in common. They were together all the time, and when they were near each other, they shone in a way that could dazzle those around them. Never before had either of them been seen like that.
By now their mutual friends, who were particularly sharp-tongued, were saying that this bogatyr was now under the Tartar-Mongol yoke. And Arthur didn’t mind, as well as Agatha.9
About Mark
It is not easy to write a CV for someone who is only three years old. His life history has not yet shaped him as a person, he cannot yet share his views on politics and the environmental situation in the world.
His birth story wasn’t anything special, he was lying in a city maternity hospital just like hundreds of others. He was learning to crawl and hold a spoon, just as billions of others have learned before him and billions more will learn afterwards.
At least we can try and start with his appearance. After he was born, he looked exactly like a potato, as all children except for your own do. To his parents, he was the most beautiful thing from day one, but by the time he was three years old other people could see this as well. Now they could roughly imagine what he would eventually grow up to be.
And he promised to grow up, if not dashing, then at least quite handsome.
Given the range of characteristics his parents possessed, Mark could have turned out rather comical and unsightly, but genetics were favourable.
Somehow, he was born with big sky-blue eyes, which then one day became almost as black as his mother’s, and after that they began to lighten again, resulting in a beautiful dark blue colour on his iris.
His hair, black and stiff like Agatha’s, was wavy, just a bit short of Arthur’s curls.
He took after his mother in many ways, but the huge smile that played across his face so often was clearly his father’s.
The parsing of the appearance has not yet been able to determine what he has inherited from other relatives, but at three years old you can still wait on that.
More importantly, our youngest of the heroes was already showing that appearance would clearly not be the main achievement in his formed personality – the boy was already charismatic. One day he almost organized an escape from his kindergarten, and the whole group was ready to follow him.
All in all, grandparents can safely go on saying that he will break more than one girl’s heart, and they will probably be right.
Except that Mark himself doesn’t like it when people say that. He, to be honest, wouldn’t like to break anything. If he was punished for a broken salad bowl, which turned out to be a bad option for trying to ride it down the corridor, what are the consequences of a broken heart then?
Well, what else? Unlike many other boys his age, Mark did not earn his authority among his classmates by force. He had always been a soft and vulnerable child, which made Agatha sigh heavily and longingly. But time after time she reminded herself that stamina and the ability to stand up for oneself and stand one’s ground were skills that people are not born with, they take time to develop.
As for Mark’s own desires, becoming seasoned and hardened was not one of his priorities. He did, however, prioritize dinosaurs, cartoons and banana pudding, which was also very good.
CHAPTER 4: Jürgen and somewhere around
Jürgen rambled softly as it was warming up. Outside, a snowstorm was howling with its snowiness. It was still chilly, but the heater was already filling the insides of the car with life-saving warmth. At the wheel sat a huge man in an enormous winter jacket – how the pair of them fit into the seat will forever remain a mystery.
He was beginning to feel a little hot, so he decided to take off at least the jacket. He did not want to go outside, which meant that he had to display the kind of flexibility that such a huge human body should not be able to do in confined spaces, to the envy of all the snake-women from Cirque Du Soleil.10
Actually, Thur didn’t know if Cirque Du Soleil had any snake-women, but if not, it was clearly an oversight on their part. It didn’t change the point: the man’s body size was too much for taking his jacket off with no assistance, it’s not as mundane as it is for most people. There was only one saving grace: he was the only one in the car, and this time there should have been no casualties.
However, once the jacket was defeated, this loneliness began to weigh on him and seemed to be rather exacerbating. Twenty minutes ago, they should have been already on the road – if nothing changes soon, they can safely wrap it up and not go anywhere at all.
This is where any reasonable reader should be prepared to insert their five cents – why not call? Why not text? Who is better off if the trip ends up being cancelled? And a reasonable reader might be absolutely right, but not this time.
Well, please, let’s live together friendlily.
The bearded man leaned back and closed his eyes, trying to prepare himself for any outcome. He was not very good at it – the blood was throbbing in his temples, and he could not breathe calmly at all.
The big metal front door of their house opened and let two people out into the world. They were immediately swept away by a blizzard, a gust of icy wind with razor-sharp little icicles. The larger figure rushed confidently towards the car, towing the smaller one behind it.
The little person was stubborn and refused to move his legs. Thankfully, the snow had been cleared away and had not yet managed to cover the ice, so instead of ramming the thick layer of icy white powder with his whole body, one could see a comical pair skating element which was not at all in tune with the general mood.
The car door opened, the blizzard didn’t miss its chance and hundreds of thousands of little shurikens11 of ice slammed into Artur’s unprotected neck. However, the pain of the cold could not overcome the disturbing disappointment that came over the man at the sight of the expression on his wife’s face.
The conflict was not resolved. The miserable hope that the storm had passed had quit of its own accord. The trip promised to be no fun.
While Agatha buckled her frowning son into the child seat and unbuttoned his jacket, Arthur ran his fingers nervously over the rough surface of the steering wheel.
This has never happened before. Today, the unstoppable force ran into an unbreakable obstacle. The scythe found a rock. The wave came upon… also upon a rock.
Like flashbacks from the battlefield, this morning came back to Arthur. Picture after picture began to appear in his mind.
Here was still a good morning. The pancakes for breakfast were delicious, the kettle whistled cosily on the cooker, the plaid lay softly on my shoulders and my slippers hugged my feet gently.
Now it’s time for breakfast for the rest of the household.
Here the cups are already set out, plump crispy rounds have been placed on plates and I need to walk towards the rooms to call everyone in.
No,