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She spun, distracted.
It seemed to him that if the girl had not been taken by his mother to his classes, she would have missed.
Just would not come.
After a week of such classes, he decided to talk to her mom.
He didn’t want to disappoint the woman who seemed to have high hopes for the girl, but he didn’t see any further work with her.
The woman understood him and even told her that it was very difficult with her.
Neither she nor her husband could give her due attention due to work.
And after the death of her grandmother, with whom she spent the summer, she became unsociable, constantly snapped.
She lived in some of her little world, where even her mother and father wouldn’t let her go.
And he realized how serious it was, through the genuine sobs of a woman coming from the handset.
He decided to try to talk to her in a tone of voice that was somewhat reminiscent of his father.
The girl seemed to listen, but did not play better.
She reacted to his remarks with open hostility, and this infuriated him at one moment.
Feeling a familiar tingling in her palms, he brought his palm close-to-close to her back when she played, as if she was deliberately ill, as if she hadn’t been attending music school since she was six years old.
Since he could heal the physical, can it be possible to correct the spiritual too? Fix something inside.
Some gene: Something that defines the character: But having done this a couple of times, he was convinced that the white glow only heals.
But not correct.
Peering into his palms, he kept thinking, what could they really do? And for what did he get this power: Too late to find and help Christine survive: Another day of training with Zhenya, the last attempt to correct it.
He touched her hands, showing how to play.
Thinking about how it should be.
To the mother almost crying, do not have to confide with very strangers.

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Everything seemed in vain.
But not the next lesson.
When she was brought like the same as before: But in something else.
More restrained, focused.
Non-twisting.
She played trying, each time looking at him, asking for a look at the key she pressed.
He liked this little change in her.
He recorded it at his own expense.
Plus yourself as a teacher.
He began to study with Zhenya.
Her successes have become, almost his main joy.
The desire to encourage her success: Find out how much this white glow can change a person: That’s what he fell asleep with and what he woke up with.
At the next lesson, for several minutes he held a luminous palm two centimeters from the back of the girl when she was learning to play a moon sonata.
She went home, somehow completely quiet, and when she returned: A completely different look.
And something in this look: It’s hard to even say: She looked at him.
With such respect, with such confidence.
Grateful parents personally thanked him, once they met

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by chance near the entrance to the mall.
And each lesson a white glow touched her back as she played.
And he stopped being surprised at her changes.
He really noticed them only when she was brought back again after a week break.
The girl’s mom was obviously puzzled, there was some sort of anxiety in her eyes.
God knows for what reason.
-Do you have a new hair color, Zhenyok? – He asked, crushing a bad chill in his chest.
The maple leaf in the last dance smoothly circles around the lantern.
Bizarre steps and turns.
They are also lonely – both a pillar and a leaflet, and together they will not be.
So met to part.
Random highlights are so overwhelmed with pain that my own dies down inside.
Silent grunt.
Phone call at three in the morning.
and I know that the caller is the one whose number has never been recorded on my phone.
It is a pity that this is not a husband.
A sleepy muffled voice sounds in the receiver: “I’ll be there soon, wait downstairs!” Every sound is tired.
I should have bored him a long time ago.
This time there is no strength to be surprised at his call, there is no strength even for gratitude.
I put on my jacket, hood, and go down to the street.
It feels from emptiness and from night autumn coolness.
I wrapped my arms around my shoulders.
The car stops, I sit down silently.
Leaving the city.
I keep warm a little.
Gently moves off from the bypass and slows down.
Ahead of the river, beautiful.
Next to me is my ideal, my angel.
Anyone who understands without words, he does not even need my opinion.
Sits and listens to my breath.
Heavy palm wraps my wrist.
Gentle stroking.
A spark flies into my body and falls deep into me.
It hurts.
How painful.
Lips quivered – I love him.
Love
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