Their conversation happened in the evening when Thomas returned home. Emma met him with documents in her hands, her eyes burned with indignation and pain:
“Do you know what it means?” She asked, barely restraining a trembling in her voice. “Do you know that because of this people will lose their homes?”
Thomas tried to explain that it was part of his work, that he only performed instructions, but for Emma it sounded like an empty excuse.
– You could refuse! She exclaimed. – You could say no! But you chose money, not people. How could you?
Her words cut Thomas, but he understood that she was right. He tried to explain that in his profession he often had to make a difficult choice, that not everything is so unambiguous, but Emma did not want to listen. For her, it was a betrayal of those values that she thought, they shared.
Their dispute lasted for hours. Emma accused Thomas of cynicism of that he lost touch with reality, with people who suffer due to decisions adopted in the offices. Thomas, in turn, defended himself, saying that the world is not perfect, that sometimes you have to compromise. But for Emma a compromise with a conscience was impossible.
This quarrel was a turning point in their relationship. Emma felt that a wall that she did not know how to overcome it grew between them. She always admired Thomas for his mind, determination, but now she saw in him a man who, for the sake of his career, is ready to give up his principles. And Thomas, in turn, felt that Emma did not understand the complexity of his work, that she judges him too strictly.
Walks in the square
After a quarrel with Thomas, Emma found consolation in walks along one of the streets of the old city, which led to a small area with a fountain. This place became her refuge, a corner of calm, where she could be alone with herself and her thoughts. The square was small, but comfortable, surrounded by old houses with tiled roofs and decorated with a fountain, in the center of which stood a stone figure of an angel holding a jug in his hands, from which water flowed.
But the main inhabitants of the square were pigeons. There have always been a lot of them – flocks of gray, white and brown birds that flew to the fountain in search of water and crumbs left by passers -by. Emma loved to watch them. She came here with a small bag of bread or grain and sat on a bench under a spreading tree. Pigeons quickly got used to her and began to fly away as soon as she appeared. They circled around, sat on her shoulders, pecked the crumbs with her palms, and at these moments, Emma felt her anxiety and sorrows gradually leaving.
Walking around this area has become a ritual for her. She came here in the morning, before work, or in the evening, when the city was silent, and the streets were lit by the soft light of the lanterns. Here she could think, dream, remember. Sometimes she imagined how one day her boutique would be somewhere nearby, and she would come here to relax after a working day. The thought of this gave her strength.
Once, sitting on a bench and watching pigeons, Emma noticed an elderly woman who also often came to this square. She fed birds and sometimes whispered something to them, as if telling her stories. Emma smiled, catching herself thinking that she may look the same – a woman who finds comfort in communicating with pigeons. But this did not bother her. In this place, she felt part of something more, part of life that continues, despite all the difficulties.
Sometimes, when the pigeons flew up, their wings shone in the sun, and Emma froze, fascinated by this beauty. At such moments, she remembered the words of Madame Grace:
– Beauty – in the moments that touch the soul.
And she understood that it was precisely such moments that help her move forward, despite everything that happens in her life.
Old man
This strange old man who appeared at the fountain seemed a man obsessed with the idea of a global catastrophe. His neat appearance and a gray beard gave him the appearance of a sage or prophet, and his words sounded as a warning to all humanity. He talked about the approach of Armageddon, but not in the traditional biblical sense, but as a result of the actions of the people themselves. His speeches were filled with anxiety about the future of the planet, and he persistently repeated that alien races only observe our self -destruction without interfering.
He drew attention to environmental problems: natural pollution, plastic islands in the oceans, which have become a symbol of human irresponsibility. He argued that micro plastic on the surface of the ocean violates the natural processes of water evaporation, which, in turn, leads to the destruction of the ozone layer and overheating of the atmosphere. According to him, this is only part of the problem. Heating the bottom of the ocean and the accumulation of static energy, in his opinion, can lead to large -scale cataclysms in the next 10 years.
His words sounded like an apocalyptic scenario, but they had a share of truth. Many scientists really sound the alarm about climate change, oceans pollution and an increase in the frequency of natural disasters. The old man urged people and countries to stop competition and unite to save the planet, it was not too late. His speeches, perhaps, seemed strange and even frightening, but they forced to think about where humanity was moving and what we would leave behind future generations.
The old man, despite his gloomy predictions, always added a note of hope, saying that those who have pure thoughts and a clear conscience will be able to escape. However, his words were rarely perceived seriously. People, passing by, either laughed or shrugged, considering him the next city crazy. But there was one guy named Brad, who seemed to really listen to him. Brad was not sure of the veracity of the old man’s words, but something caught him in them.
Brad
Once, a guy of about twenty and a little, with carelessly laid dark hair, which always seemed slightly disheveled, as if he had just got out of bed or left the wind, approached the old man. His eyes, gray-blue, as if reflecting the sky in front of a thunderstorm, always looked carefully, with a light shadow of skepticism, but at the same time with curiosity. He wore simple clothes – a dark jeans, rubbed jeans and sneakers, which clearly saw more than one thousand steps. On his left hand was a barely noticeable tattoo – a small symbol in the form of a tree, which, as he once mentioned, meant a connection with nature for him.
Brad was not the one who can be called bright or charismatic. He was rather quiet, observant, preferring to listen to what to say. But when he nevertheless entered into a conversation, his words were always balanced, sometimes even sharp, if he felt that the interlocutor was talking insincerely. He did not believe in the light paths and did not trust loud promises, whether from politicians, activists or even such strange personalities as the old man at the fountain.
However, something in this old man hooked Brad. Maybe it was his sincerity, or the very absurdity of his words, which, oddly enough, seemed closer to the truth than everything that Brad heard on TV or read in the news. Brad was not naive – he understood that the old man could be just crazy. But in his words there was some strange logic that made me think.
Brad often came to the fountain after work or studies, sat on a bench nearby and watched the old man who, as always, walked around the area, turning to passers -by. Sometimes Brad approached him, asked questions, argued or simply listened. He did not know if he himself believes in what the old man says, but these conversations became for him something like an outlet in the world that seemed to him more and more insane and hopeless.
Once, when the old man said that people should stop fighting each other and start fighting for the salvation of the planet, Brad asked:
– And