The Before Short Story Series. Part 1 - стр. 22

the fish were asking a dumb question, looking closely at the changing shadows behind the barrier of their habitual habitat. ‘Today, friends, you have to figure out who is a wolf and who is a sheep. Who will rule and who will serve. Today we have to dot all the i’s. And it’s time for you, my devoted protégés, to pay your bills. No free ride. Have taken something, be ready to pay. Sooner or later.’ Robert tapped the glass of the tank with the knuckle of his index finger—the fish scattered in different directions. ‘Let’s see who wins this time!’ he closed the can of worms without throwing them any, and put it in the bar fridge built into the base of the tank.

‘See you tomorrow. Or maybe goodbye,’ Robert’s lips twisted in the semblance of a smile. He went to the bathroom, next to the office, to clean himself up before leaving.

‘Damn it! Just now I could have failed miserably!’ returning abruptly to the office, he took a pen from a pencil glass and a block of stickers on the table and wrote in a flamboyant hand: Do not feed! RR ‘No, not like that! Bad!’ Robert looked critically at what he had just written. He sat down at the table and carefully wrote on a yellow sheet—Do not feed! Stressing the instruction, he added: RGR. Leaving the office, he stuck a sticker on the wall of the fish tank and slammed the door behind.

In the bright light of a dressing room, his legs wide apart and hands on his hips, Robert was trying to figure out: ‘What to choose? Which accents will be right today? That’s the million-dollar question…’ He began to examine the racks of clothes methodically, his feet sinking into the light cream carpet covering the floor of the room. On the left side, on white shelves up to the ceiling, there were all kinds of colourful sweaters, turtlenecks and jeans, tweed trousers and cotton clothing. A row of closed shelves separated a large compartment with casual shoes, containing sneakers and running shoes, flip-flops and boots. Robert was critically examining his reflection in the mirrors in the central part of the dressing room. Regular work-out over the past two years had done their job. He was slim and fit, in good shape. But not over-dried and, even more important, not pumped up. ‘Not too much and just enough. I think it’s the right way. But, of course, we will go on exercising.’ His gaze moved on. A compartment with shirts in two long rows: white, light blue and various shades of blue on top, several light grey and pink; from below—in variegated colours with all sorts of prints, from classic paisley to trivial checkered shirts. In another divider, all kinds of accessories were stored—ties, bow ties, various belts, scarves and so on…Then again a large row with shoes, but this time of more reserved shades when occasions demand so. The second to last compartment contained multiple suits and dinner jackets. The sanctuary of the owner’s style was rounded out by a wardrobe with outdoor pieces, jackets and coats, down jackets, sheepskin coats and all kinds of winter clothing items. ‘I don’t think I’m going to need a hat today.’