- Do you have your passport with you? - Kerr took out several papers packed in files from her briefcase, put them on the table.

Olya took her passport out of her bag, as if in doubt, but gave it back. Kerr flipped through and checked the data against her own notes.

- Very well, Olga Pavlovna, thank you, - the passport migrated back. - So, let's begin. I have invited you to inform you of the death of your relative, Valentina Semyonovna Korobova. She passed away almost six months ago. And the timing of the acceptance of the inheritance will soon end, - Kerr raised her eyes to Olga. What is it, a play of light, or a smile touched the lips sitting opposite the girl? Seems like it did.

Olga Valeeva rubbed her temples, and Kerr again admired the thin, graceful hands of her hands.

- They were looking for you. Did you receive notifications at the place of registration?

Olga thought of Jeanne. The fact that the young actress does not read anything but gloss and proposed scripts. And he comes home with only one purpose - to clean the feathers shabby on trips and revels. In her hallway there is an eternal mountain of correspondence and advertising, piled on a shelf.

- No, - Olga spread her hands. - How did you find out my phone number? And in general, found me? What do you have to do with my ... - the girl faltered, - aunt?

- Honestly, no, - Kerr's voice cheered up, - I told you: I ended up in Chudovo quite by accident. By invitation. Conducted a seminar. I was asked to help push through a few cases, because, you know, the farther from Moscow, the less opportunities. A purely bureaucratic problem. Believe me, I do not use my official position for any benefit. Technically, it cost me absolutely nothing. Just a couple of calls to the right people.

- Is it that simple? - on the face of Olga appeared distrust.

- Probably still not, if you are still not aware of the death of your, for a moment, the only relative. In any case, - Kerr pursed her lips skeptically, - I did my job. Here, take it and check it out. It is absolutely your right: to accept the inheritance, to refuse it, to somehow react or stay away. But I would advise, - Maria Nikolaevna put her chin on her crossed fingers, - to do, as soon as possible, paperwork and enter into property rights. As far as I understand, you left your hometown a long time ago, but did not acquire your own living space. Believe me, you will make your life easier by finding at least some corner.

- Can I do this without coming to Chudov?

Kerr was surprised and, leaning on the table with her magnificent breasts, tried to look into the face of her interlocutor.

- Olga Pavlovna, maybe something happened to you, and now you perceive some things too painfully? No need. All you have to do is go to Chudov and go to the notary. Its number and address are pinned to the main file. If you don't want to live in Chudovo, that's your business. Go to a realtor and put the apartment up for sale. Your presence in the city will be limited to a couple of days. Of course, you can hire a lawyer as a representative, but it's a completely different money. And, in fact, why should I persuade you?

Olga took the papers from Kerr's hands and looked at her sadly.

- You're right. It's just so unexpected. We didn't talk to my aunt. I didn't think at all that this would happen. I will do as you say. It's just, - the girl licked her dry lips, - I'm a little uncomfortable.

- I understand, - Maria Nikolaevna nodded, - everyone goes through the loss of loved ones and relatives. You can do it.

Olga folded the folder into a tube and shoved it into her bag.

- All the best, Maria Nikolaevna.

- All the best, Olga Pavlovna! Are you sure you don't drink tea? - Kerr left the table and went to the kettle.

- No, thank you, - Olga nodded briefly and left the office.

Maria Kerr stood silently at the door, listening to the receding footsteps in the corridor.

Leaving the lawyer's office, Olga headed for the subway. At the Sats theater she sat down on a bench and took out a folder. Maria Kerr is right. You shouldn't be so sensitive about it. All in the past. In eight years, a lot of water has flowed under the bridge. There is a chance to solve this problem for yourself once and for all, to put an end to the ghosts that poison life. Persuading herself in this way, the girl ordered a ticket. It was worth hurrying in order to have time to collect the necessary things and arrive at the station on time.

Olga chuckled at her thoughts. In what a strange way the Universe responded to her request! One had only to succumb to the persuasion of conscience to leave Beletsky, as opportunities for this were immediately organized. Well, now ask this same Universe for the strength to solve one more problem. You don't have to carry this pain in your soul for the rest of your life. It's time to face your own fear. Or finally die.

Is it possible not to love the city where you were born and raised? What to do if there is an irresistible desire to delete him from your life and erase any mention of him? How to explain this fear and the oppressive feeling of an impending disaster, as powerful as an avalanche, ready to wipe you off the face of the earth without leaving the slightest trace? The instinct of self-preservation screams at the top of its voice to stay, not to start anything that will push you again with this destructive force. And you hear only a thin voice of your soul and believe that you have become brave enough to meet your ghosts again.

Seven hours of travel. Of these, the last one and a half, there is only a forest outside the window. Finally, Olga made out through the glass of the car the rows of dilapidated sheds left after the demolition of the private sector. There used to be a village here, the name of which Olya did not remember. After a couple of kilometers, the station building appeared, from where eight years ago she left for a new life, promising herself never to return.

- Miracles! Parking for three minutes, - the conductor looked tiredly at Olga, - get ready.

The girl grabbed her travel bag and went out into the corridor. The train whistle signaled the arrival. The car rocked several times before the screeching of the brakes. The conductor opened the vestibule door. It smelled of dampness and the old smell of tobacco. The small station building was visible through the bluish flicker of fluorescent lamps. As soon as the traffic stopped completely, the conductor opened the door and put out the ladder.

- Thank you, - Olga pulled the bag up and began to descend, - all the best!

- And you do not have to be ill! - the conductor shivered.

Olga tightened the belt of her cloak and threw a scarf over her head. She swayed slightly. The stairs clattered up, and the train picked up speed quickly. Olya regretfully followed him with her eyes, as if not wanting to let him go. The clock is almost midnight.

The air is too cold, the footsteps are too loud, the reluctance to be here is too strong.

Olga went up to the door of the station and laid her hand on the wood of the handle. The girl did not remember if this pen was the same smooth eight years ago, but its color, or rather, the absence of a certain color, was deposited in her memory even then. In the center of the hall stood three rows of new metal chairs with straight backs and mesh seats. Previously, in their place were honey-colored wooden benches with armrests sanded to black. It was comfortable to sit and lie on these benches, and also to cut out different words and drawings with a penknife.

Olga went to the closed window of the cash desk and on the side of it, under several layers of plaster, made out the word "sorry." Even for a brief moment it seemed to her that grains of paint were now falling on the floor, as when she scratched out the letters invisible.

Olya shook her head, getting rid of the obsession. The scarf slipped from her thick blond hair and she tucked it behind her ear. The key to my aunt's apartment was in my pocket. A couple of times Olga bumped into him and immediately pulled her hand away, as if a snake was hiding inside. He has been lying all these years at the bottom of the backpack with which Olya left Chudovo.

"Well, if he doesn't fit, I'll spend the night in a hotel."

A few hundred meters from the station, Olga regretted that she had not called a taxi. Lanterns burned through one, fantasy helpfully threw up plots, one more terrible than the other, incomprehensible rustles inside the dark courtyards. But there was very little to go. She had already seen the required five-story building. Olga stepped up.

- My God, did it come! - the girl muttered, putting her bag on a bench near the entrance.