Short stories for the soul - small emotional stories with meaning. Touching: short but vital stories about love and family Love story short story

Real life love stories that will not only make you think, but will warm your heart and even make you smile.

Today my 75-year-old grandfather, who has been blind for 15 years due to cataracts, told me: “Your grandmother is the most beautiful woman on earth, isn’t she?” I thought for a second and said: “Yes, she is exactly like that. You probably really miss this beauty, now that you don’t see it.” “Darling,” my grandfather answered me. - I see her every day. To be honest, I see her much more clearly now than when we were young.”
Today I married my daughter. Ten years ago, I rescued a 14-year-old boy from a minivan that was engulfed in flames after a serious accident. The doctors' verdict was clear - he would never be able to walk. My daughter visited him several times with me in the hospital. Then she started going there without me. And today I saw how, contrary to all predictions and smiling widely, he put the ring on my daughter’s finger - standing firmly on both feet.
Today, as I approached the door of my store at 7 o’clock in the morning (I’m a florist), I saw a soldier in uniform waiting outside. As it turned out, he was on his way to the airport, from where he was supposed to fly to Afghanistan for the whole year. He said: "I usually bring my wife a beautiful bouquet of flowers every Friday and I don't want to let her down just because I'll be away from her." After these words, he ordered 52 bouquets of flowers from me and asked me to deliver them every Friday evening to his wife’s office until he returned. I gave him a 50% discount on everything - such love filled my whole day with light.
Today I told my 18-year-old grandson that in all my school years I never went to the school prom because no one ever invited me there. And imagine - this evening, dressed in a tuxedo, he rang my doorbell and invited me to the school ball as his partner.
When she woke up from her 18 month coma today, she kissed me and said, “Thank you for staying with me, for telling me these beautiful stories, and for always believing in me... And yes, I will marry you.”
Today, while passing through the park, I decided to have a snack on a bench. And as soon as I unwrapped my sandwich, the car of an elderly couple stopped under an oak tree nearby. They rolled down the windows and turned on jazz music on the record player. Then the man got out of the car, opened the door and offered his hand to the woman, and after that they slowly danced under that same oak tree for half an hour.
Today I performed surgery on a little girl. She needed blood of the first group. We didn't have her, but her twin brother also had the first group. I explained to him that this was a matter of life and death. He thought for a moment, and then said goodbye to his parents and offered his hand. I didn’t understand why he did this until after we took his blood, he asked, “When will I die?” He thought he was really sacrificing his life for his sister. Luckily, they will both be okay now.
Today, my father has become the best father I could ever dream of. He's my mom's loving husband (and always makes her laugh), he's come to every soccer match I've been to since I was five (I'm 17 now), and he provides for our entire family as a construction worker. This morning, when I was looking through my dad's toolbox for pliers, I found a dirty piece of paper folded at the bottom. It turned out to be a page torn from my father's old diary, and it bore the date a month before I was born. It read: “I am nineteen years old, an alcoholic, a college dropout, an unsuccessful suicide, a victim of childhood abuse and a former car thief. And next month a “young father” will be added to all this. But I swear, I will do everything to make sure everything is fine for my baby. I will become for her the kind of father that I myself have never had.” And... I don’t know how, but he succeeded.
Today my 8 year old son hugged me and said, “You are the best mom in the whole world.” I smiled and asked him: “How do you know this? You haven’t seen all the mothers of the whole world.” My son, in response to this, hugged me even tighter and said: “And you are my world.”
Today I saw an elderly patient with Alzheimer's disease. He barely remembers his own name and often forgets where he is or what he said just a few minutes ago. But by some miracle (and I think this miracle is called love), every time his wife comes to visit him for a few minutes, he remembers who she is and greets her with “Hello, my beautiful Kate.”
My 21 year old Labrador can barely stand up, can't see or hear much, and doesn't even have the energy to bark. But still, when I enter the room, she happily wags her tail.
Today is the 10th anniversary of our marriage. My husband and I were recently laid off from our jobs, and so we agreed not to spend money on gifts for each other. When I woke up this morning, my husband was already up. I walked downstairs and saw that our entire house was lovingly decorated with beautiful wild flowers. I counted more than 400 of them - and he really didn't spend a cent on them.
Today I met up with a guy I dated in high school and whom I never expected to meet again. He showed me a photo of the two of us, which he kept in the lining of his helmet for those 8 years while he served in the army far from me.
Both my 88-year-old grandmother and her 17-year-old cat have long since gone blind. Grandma got herself a guide dog to help her move around the house, which is generally normal. But lately he has started leading the cat around the house too! When she meows, he comes over and rubs against her, then leads her to her bowl, sandbox, or wherever she sleeps.
Today I was horrified to see through the kitchen window as my 2-year-old daughter slipped and fell into our pool. But before I could reach her, our retriever Rex jumped after her and pulled her by the collar of her shirt to where it was shallow and she was able to stand up.
My older brother has already donated bone marrow to me 15 times to help me fight cancer. He talks directly to my doctor about it and I don't even know when he does it. And today the doctor told me that it seems that the treatment is starting to help. "We're seeing sustained remission," he said.
Today I was driving home with my grandfather when he suddenly turned around and said, “I forgot to buy flowers for your grandmother. Now let's go to the corner store and I'll buy her a bouquet. I quickly". “Is today some special day?” I asked him. “No, I don’t think so,” my grandfather answered. “Every day is special in some way. And your grandmother loves flowers. They make her smile."
Today I was rereading the suicide note I wrote on September 2, 1996, two minutes before my girlfriend knocked on my door and said, “I'm pregnant.” Suddenly I felt that I wanted to live again. Today she is my beloved wife. And my daughter, who is already 15 years old, has two younger brothers. From time to time I reread my suicide note to remind myself how grateful I am to have a second chance to live and love.
Today, like every day since I returned from the hospital two months ago with burn scars on my face (I spent almost a month there after the fire that burned down our house), I found a red note taped to it on my locker. rose. I still don’t know what it takes to come to school early every day and leave me these roses. I even tried a couple of times to come early myself and catch this man - but every time I found the rose already there.
Today 10 years have passed since my father's death. When I was little, he often hummed a short tune to me when I went to bed. When I was 18 and he was lying in a hospital room, fighting cancer, I was already humming that same melody to him. Since then, I have never heard it, until today in bed with my fiancé, we looked at each other, and he began to hum it under his breath. It turned out that his mother also sang it to him as a child.
Today, a woman who lost her vocal cords due to cancer enrolled in my sign language class. Her husband, four children, two sisters, brother, mother, father, and fourteen of her best friends signed up with me to be able to communicate with her even though she had lost her voice.
My 11-year-old son speaks ASL fluently because his friend Josh, with whom he grew up since infancy, is deaf. It makes me so happy to see their friendship blossom every year.
Due to Alzheimer's disease and senile dementia, my grandfather no longer always recognizes his wife in the morning. A year ago, when it first started, she was very worried about it, but now she understands what is happening to him and helps him as much as she can. She even plays with him every morning, trying to get him to propose to her again before breakfast. And every time she succeeds.
Today my father died of natural causes at the age of 92. I found his body in a chair in his room. On his hip lay three framed 8 x 10 photographs - these were photographs of my mother who died 10 years ago. She was the love of his life, and most likely, feeling his death approaching, he wanted to see her again.
I am the proud mother of a 17 year old blind boy. Although my son was born blind, this did not stop him from becoming an excellent student, an excellent guitarist (the first album of his band has already exceeded 25,000 downloads online) and a great guy for his girlfriend Valerie. Today his little sister asked him what attracted him to Valerie and he replied, “Everything. She's beautiful."
Today I served an elderly couple in a restaurant. The way they looked at each other... it was immediately clear that they loved each other. My husband mentioned that they were celebrating their anniversary today. I smiled and said: “Let me guess. You have been together for many decades.” They laughed and the wife said, “Actually, no. Today is our fifth anniversary. We both outlived our other halves, but fate gave us another chance to love and be loved.”
Today my father found my sister chained to the barn wall. She was kidnapped near Mexico City almost 5 months ago. A week later, police called off the active search. Mom and I came to terms with the loss and arranged a funeral. Our family and her friends came to them - everyone except my father. All this time he, without ceasing, searched for her. He said he loved her too much to give up. And now she’s home again because he didn’t let them go then.
There are two high school boys at my school who are openly in love with each other. In the last two years, they had to endure a lot of insults, but they continued to walk hand in hand. And, despite threats and frequent break-ins of their school lockers, they came to the school prom today in identical suits. And they danced together, smiling from ear to ear, in spite of all the envious people.
Today my sister and I were in a car accident. At school, my sister is Miss Popularity herself. She knows everyone, and everyone knows her. Well, I’m a bit of an introvert - I always talk to the same 2 girls. My sister immediately posted on Facebook about the accident. And while all her friends left comments and expressed sympathy, two of my friends showed up at the scene of the accident even before the ambulance arrived there.
Today my fiancé returned from an overseas military assignment. But just yesterday he was just my boyfriend... well, that is, that’s what I thought. Almost a year ago, he sent me a package that he asked not to open until he returned home in two weeks - but then his business trip was extended by almost 11 months. Today, when he finally returned home, he asked me to open that same package, and when I found a beautiful ring inside, he knelt in front of me and proposed to me.
Today, for the first time in months, my 12-year-old son Sean and I stopped by the nursing home on our way home. I usually go there alone to visit my mother, who has Alzheimer's disease. As we walked into the hallway, the nurse said, “Hi, Sean,” and let us inside. I asked my son: “How does she know your name?” “Oh, yes, I often pop in here after school to visit my grandmother,” he answered. And I had no idea about it.
Today I found in our papers my mother’s old diary, which she kept in high school. It contained a list of qualities she hoped to someday find in her boyfriend. This list is an almost exact description of my father, but my mother only met him when she was 27.
Today at school I was doing a chemistry experiment with one of the most beautiful (and popular) girls in the whole school. And although I had never worked up the courage to even talk to her before, she turned out to be very kind and sweet. We spent time in the laboratory talking, joking, and in the end we still got straight A's (yes, she turned out to be smart too). After that, little by little we started communicating. Last week, when I found out that she had not yet chosen who to go to the school prom with, I wanted to ask her if she would go there with me, but again I didn’t have the courage. And today, when I was sitting in the school cafe, she herself came up to me and asked if I would like to go there with her. I agreed, and she kissed me on the cheek and whispered: “Yes”!
Today, on our 10th anniversary, my wife gave me a suicide note that she wrote when she was 22, the very day we met. And she said: “All these years I really didn’t want you to know how stupid and impulsive I was then. But even though you didn’t know it before... you saved me. Thank you for everything".
My grandfather always kept on his nightstand an old, faded photograph from the 60s of him and my grandmother laughing happily at a party. My grandmother died of cancer when I was 7 years old. Today I looked into his house and my grandfather saw me looking at this photograph. He came up to me, hugged me and said: “Remember, just because nothing lasts forever doesn’t mean it’s not worth it.”
Today I tried to explain to my two daughters, ages 4 and 6, that we would have to move from our four-bedroom house to an apartment with just two until I found a new well-paying job. The daughters looked at each other for a moment, and then the youngest asked: “Are we all going to move there together?” “Yes,” I replied. “Well, it's all right then,” she said.
Today on the plane I met the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. Realizing that after landing we might not see each other again, I told her how beautiful she was. She smiled charmingly at me and said: “No one has said that to me for 10 years.” It turned out that we were both in our early thirties, unmarried, neither had children, and lived literally 5 miles from each other. And next Sunday, after we get home, we have a date.
I am the mother of 2 children and grandmother of 4 grandchildren. At the age of 17 I became pregnant with twins. When my boyfriend and friends found out that I was not going to have an abortion, they all turned their backs on me. But I didn’t give up, didn’t drop out of school, got a job, graduated from college, and there I met a guy who has loved my children like his own for 50 years.
Today, on my 29th birthday, I returned home from my 4th and final military deployment to distant lands. The little girl who lives next door to my parents (who, to be honest, is not little anymore - she's 22) met me at the airport with a beautiful long rose, a bottle of my favorite vodka, and then asked me out on a date.
Today my daughter agreed to marry her boyfriend. He is 3 years older than her. They started dating when she was 14 and he was 17. I really didn’t like this age difference then. When he turned 18 a week before she turned 15, my husband insisted they end the relationship. They remained friends, but dated other people. But now that she's 24 and he's 27... I've never seen a couple so in love with each other.
When I found out today that my mother came down with the flu, I stopped at the supermarket to buy her some ready-made soup. I ran into my father there, whose cart contained 5 cans of soup, nasal spray, tissues, tampons, 4 DVDs of romantic comedies and a bouquet of flowers. It made me stop and really think about everything.
Today I was sitting on the hotel balcony and saw a couple in love walking along the beach. It was clear from the way they moved that they were crazy about each other. When they came closer, I was surprised to see that they were my parents. No one would say that 8 years ago they almost got divorced.
I'm only 17, but my boyfriend, Jake, and I have been dating for 3 years. Yesterday we spent the first night together. No, we didn’t do “this” either before or this night. Instead, we baked cookies, watched two comedies, laughed, played Xbox, and fell asleep holding each other. Despite my parents' concerns, he turned out to be a true gentleman and the best guy.
Today, when I tapped my wheelchair and told my husband, “You know, you are the only reason I would like to be free of this squalor,” he kissed my forehead and replied, “Honey, I don’t even notice him.”
Today my grandparents, who were already over ninety and who had lived together for 72 years, both died in their sleep, not having lived without each other for an hour.
Today my father came to my house for the first time in six months since I told him that I was gay. When I opened the doors, he hugged me with tears in his eyes and said, “I'm sorry, Jason. I love you".
Today my 6 year old autistic sister said her first word - my name.
Today, 15 years after my grandfather's death, my 72-year-old grandmother is getting married again. I am 17 years old, and in my entire life I have never seen her so happy. How nice it was to see two people so in love with each other, despite their age. And now I know it's never too late.
Today in a jazz club in San Francisco I saw two people madly passionate about each other. The woman was a dwarf, and the man was two meters tall. After a few cocktails they went out onto the dance floor. To slow dance with her, the man knelt down - and they danced all night.
This morning I was woken up by my daughter calling my name. I was sleeping in a chair in her hospital room, and when I opened my eyes, I saw her beautiful smile. She was in a coma for 98 days.
On this day almost exactly 10 years ago, I stopped at an intersection and another car rear-ended me. Her driver was a University of Florida student - like me. He looked very guilty and constantly apologized. While we were waiting for the police and the tow truck, we started talking and soon we were laughing uncontrollably at each other’s jokes. As a result, we exchanged numbers, and the rest, as they say, is history. We recently celebrated our 8th anniversary.
Today, when I was working in a cafe, two gay men walked in holding hands. As one might expect, a fair portion of the visitors began to openly stare at them. And then a little girl sitting at a table not far from me asked her mother why these two men were holding hands. Mom replied: “Because they love each other.”
Today, after 2 years of living apart, my ex-wife and I finally settled our differences and decided to meet for dinner. We chatted and laughed for 4 hours on end. And before leaving, she gave me a large, plump envelope. It contained 20 love messages that she wrote over these two years. The envelope was labeled “Letters I Didn’t Send Because I Was Stubborn.”
Today I had an accident that left a deep abrasion on my forehead. The doctor wrapped a bandage around my head and told me not to take it off for a week - although I didn’t like it at all. Two minutes ago, my little brother came into my room - and his head was also wrapped in a bandage! Mom said he didn't want me to feel unhappy.
Today, after a long illness, my mother died of cancer. My best friend, who lives 2000 miles away from me, called on the phone to at least somehow console me. “What would you do if I showed up at your house now and hugged you tightly?” - he asked me. “Well, I would definitely smile,” I answered. And then he rang my doorbell.
Today, as my 91-year-old grandfather (military doctor, medal bearer and successful businessman) lay in his hospital bed, I asked him what he considered his greatest achievement. He turned to my grandmother, took her hand and said: “That I grew old with her.”
When I saw my 75-year-old grandparents today acting like 14-year-olds in love and laughing at each other's stupid jokes, I realized that I had caught a brief glimpse of what true love is. I hope someday I will be able to find her.
On this day exactly 20 years ago, I risked my life to save a woman who was being swept away by the fast current of the Colorado River. That's how I met my wife - the love of my life.
Today, on our 50th wedding anniversary, she smiled at me and said, “I wish I had met you sooner.”
Today my blind friend told me at length and colorfully how beautiful his new girlfriend is.

Deep night. Somewhere a quiet breeze runs through, dispersing the last dust on the damp asphalt. A little rain at night added freshness to this stuffy, tortured world. Added freshness to the hearts of lovers. They stood hugging each other in the light of a street lamp. She is so feminine and gentle, who said that at 16 years old a girl cannot be feminine enough?! Here age does not matter at all, only the one who is nearby, the closest, dearest and warmest person on earth is important. And he is most glad that she is finally in his arms. After all, it is true that they say that hugs, like nothing else, convey all the love of a person, no kisses, only the gentle touch of his hands. Each of them in this minute, the minute of hugs, experiences unearthly feelings. The girl feels safe knowing that she will always be protected. The guy shows care, feels responsible - an unforgettable feeling towards his beloved and only one.
Everything was like the finale of the most beautiful film about happy love. But let's start from the beginning.

Current page: 1 (book has 7 pages in total) [available reading passage: 2 pages]

Irina Lobusova
Kama Sutra. Short stories about love (collection)

It was like this

Almost every day we meet on the landing of the main staircase. She smokes in the company of her friends, and Natasha and I are looking for the women's restroom - or vice versa. She is similar to me - maybe because we both completely lose the ability to navigate the huge and endless (as it seems to us every day) space of the institute. The long, tangled bodies of which seem to be specially created to put pressure on the brain. Usually by the end of the day I start to go wild and demand to immediately hand over the monkey who built this building. Natasha laughs and asks why I am sure that this architectural monkey is still alive. However, endless wandering in search of the right audience or women's toilet is entertainment. There are so few of them in our lives - simple entertainment. We both appreciate them, I recognize everything in their eyes. When, at the most unexpected moment, we bump into each other on the stairs and lie to each other that our meeting is completely unexpected. We both just know how to lie classically. Me. And she.

We usually meet on the stairs. Then we look away and look important. She explains sedately how she just left the audience. I am walking along the corridor nearby. No one admits, even under the guise of a terrible death penalty, that in fact we are standing here and waiting for each other. No one except us is given (and will not be given) to know about this.

Both very amicably pretend that they are incredibly happy to see each other. From the outside, everything looks so easy to believe.

– It’s so nice to meet friends!

– Oh, I didn’t even know that you would be passing through here... But I’m so glad!

– What do you have to smoke?

She holds out cigarettes, my friend Natasha brazenly grabs two at once and in complete female solidarity the three of us smoke silently until the bell rings for the next pair.

– Would you give me your notes on economic theory for a couple of days? We have a test in a couple of days... And you already passed the test ahead of schedule... (she)

- No problem. Call, come in and take... (me).

Then we go to lectures. She is studying in the same course as me, just in a different stream.

The auditorium is damp from the morning light, and the desk is still damp from the wet rag of the cleaning lady. In the back people are discussing yesterday's television series. After a few minutes, everyone dives into the depths of higher mathematics. Everyone but me. During the break, without taking my eyes off my notes, I sit at the table, trying to at least see what is written on the paper sheet open in front of me. Someone slowly and quietly approaches my table. And without looking up, I know who I will see. Who is standing behind me... She.

She enters sideways, as if embarrassed by strangers. He sits down next to you and looks devotedly into his eyes. We are the closest and best friends, and have been for a long time. The deep essence of our relationship cannot be expressed in words. We're just waiting for one man. We both wait, without success, for another year. We are rivals, but not a single person in the world would think of calling us that. Our faces are the same because they are marked with the indelible stamp of love and anxiety. For one person. We probably both love him. Maybe he loves us too, but for the safety of our common souls, it’s easier to convince ourselves that he really doesn’t care about us.

How much time has passed since then? Six months, a year, two years? Since that time, when was there one, the most ordinary phone call?

Who called? I can’t even remember the name now... Someone from a neighboring course... or from a group...

"- Hello. Come right now. Everyone has gathered here... there's a surprise!

- What a surprise?! It's raining outside! Speak clearly!

– How about your English?

– Have you gone crazy?

– Listen, we have Americans sitting here. Two came on exchange to the Faculty of Romance-Germanic Philology.

- Why are they sitting with us?

– They are not interested there, besides, they met Vitalik and he brought them to our dorm. They are funny. They hardly speak Russian. She (named the name) fell for one. She sits next to him all the time. Come. You should look at this! “

The rain that hit my face... When I returned home, there were three of us. Three. This has been the case ever since.

I turn my head and look at her face - the face of a man who, faithfully laying his head on my shoulder, looks through the eyes of a pitiful beaten dog. She definitely loves him more than me. She loves so much that it is a holiday for her to hear at least one word. Even if this word of his is intended for me. From the point of view of damaged pride, I look at her very closely and competently note that today she has her hair done poorly, this lipstick does not suit her, and there is a loop on her tights. She probably sees the bruises under my eyes, unmanicured nails and tired appearance. I have known for a long time that my breasts are more beautiful and larger than hers, my height is taller and my eyes are brighter. But her legs and waist are more slender than mine. Our mutual inspection is almost unnoticeable - it is a habit ingrained in the subconscious. After this, we mutually look for oddities in behavior that indicate that one of us has recently seen him.

“Yesterday I watched international news until two o’clock in the morning...” her voice trails off and becomes hoarse. “They probably won’t be able to come this year... I heard there’s a crisis in the States...”

“And even if they come, despite their shaky economy,” I pick up, “they are unlikely to come to us.”

Her face falls, I see that I hurt her. But I can’t stop anymore.

- And in general, I have long forgotten about all this nonsense. Even if he comes again, you still won’t understand him. As last time.

– But you will help me with the translation...

- Hardly. I forgot English a long time ago. Exams are coming soon, the session is coming, we need to study Russian... the future belongs to the Russian language... and they also say that Germans will soon come to the Russian Geographical Fund for exchange. Would you like to sit down with a dictionary and go look at them?

After her, he turned to me - it was normal, I had long been accustomed to such a reaction, but I did not know that his ordinary masculine actions could cause her such pain. He still writes me letters - thin pieces of paper printed on a laser printer... I keep them in an old notebook so as not to show them to anyone. She does not know about the existence of these letters. All her ideas about life are the hope that he will forget me too. I guess that every morning she opens a map of the world and looks at the ocean with hope. She loves the ocean almost as much as he loves him. For her, the ocean is a bottomless abyss in which thoughts and feelings drown. I do not dissuade her from this illusion. Let him live as easily as possible. Our history is primitive to the point of stupidity. So ridiculous that it’s embarrassing to even talk about it. Those around us are firmly convinced that, having met at the institute, we simply became friends. Two closest friends. Who always have something to talk about... It's true. We are friends. We are interested together, there are always common topics and we also understand each other perfectly. I like her - as a person, as a person, as a friend. She likes me too. She has character traits that I don't have. We feel good together. It’s so good that no one is needed in this world. Even, probably, the ocean.

In our “personal” life, which is open to everyone, each of us has a separate man. She is a biology student from the university. Mine is a computer artist, a rather funny guy. With a valuable quality - the inability to ask questions. Our men help us survive the uncertainty and melancholy, and also the thought that he will not return. That our American romance will never truly connect us to him. But for this love, we secretly promise each other to always show concern - concern not about ourselves, but about him. She doesn’t realize, I understand how funny and absurd we are, clinging to cracked, torn straws in order to float to the surface and drown out some strange pain. Pain similar to a toothache, occurring at the most inopportune moment in the most inopportune place. Is the pain about yourself? Or about him?

Sometimes I read hatred in her eyes. As if by silent agreement, we hate everything that exists around us. An institute that you entered just for the sake of a diploma, friends who don’t care about you, society and our existence, and most importantly, the abyss that forever separates us from him. And when we are tired to the point of madness from eternal lies and poorly hidden indifference, from the whirlwind of meaningless but many events, from the stupidity of other people’s love stories - we meet her eyes and see sincerity, real, truthful sincerity, which is purer and better... We never talk about the topic of a love triangle because we both understand perfectly well that behind this there is always something more complex than the dilemma of ordinary unrequited love...

And one more thing: we think about him very often. We remember, experiencing different feelings - melancholy, love, hatred, something nasty and disgusting, or vice versa, light and fluffy... And after a stream of general phrases, someone suddenly stops mid-sentence and asks:

- Well?

And the other one shakes her head negatively:

- Nothing new…

And, having met his eyes, he will understand the silent sentence - there will be nothing new, nothing... Never.

At home, alone with myself, when no one sees me, I go crazy from the abyss into which I fall lower and lower. I desperately want to grab a pen and write in English: “leave me alone... don’t call... don’t write...” But I can’t, I’m not capable of doing this, and therefore I suffer from nightmares, from which my other half only becomes chronic insomnia. Our jealous sharing of love is a terrible nightmare in my dreams at night... Like a Swedish family or Muslim laws on polygamy... In my nightmares, I even imagine how we both marry him and run the same kitchen... Me and her. I shudder in my sleep. I wake up in a cold sweat and am tormented by the temptation to say that from mutual friends I learned about his death in a car accident... Or that another plane crashed somewhere... I invent hundreds of ways, I know that I cannot do it. I can't hate her. Just like she did me.

One day, on a difficult day, when my nerves were shaken to the limit, I pressed her against the stairs:

- What are you doing?! Why are you following me? Why are you continuing this nightmare?! Live your own life! Leave me alone! Don't seek my company, because in reality you hate me!

A strange expression appeared in her eyes:

- It is not true. I can't and don't want to hate you. I love you. And a little bit of it.

Every day for two years we meet on the landing of the stairs. And every meeting we don’t talk, but we think about him. I even catch myself thinking that I’m counting down the clock every day and looking forward to the moment when she quietly, as if shyly, enters the classroom, sits down with me and starts a stupid, endless conversation on general topics. And then, in the middle, he will interrupt the conversation and look at me questioningly... I guiltily look away to the side to shake my head negatively. And I’ll shiver all over, probably from the eternal cold dampness in the morning.

Two days until the new year

The telegram said “don’t come.” The snow scratched his cheeks with hard bristles, trampled under the broken lantern. The edge of the most brazen of all telegrams protruded from his pocket through the fur of his fur coat. The station looked like a huge pheonite ball, molded from dirty plasticine. A door leading into the sky fell brightly and clearly into the void.

Leaning against the cold wall, she studied the railway ticket window, where the crowd was choking, and thought only that she wanted to smoke, she just wanted to smoke like crazy, drawing in bitter frosty air into both nostrils. It was impossible to walk, you just had to stand, watching the crowd, leaning your shoulder against the cold wall, squinting your eyes from the familiar stench. All the stations are similar to one another, like fallen gray stars, floating in the clouds of other people's eyes, a collection of familiar, undeniable miasma. All stations are similar to one another.

Clouds - other people's eyes. This was essentially the most important thing.

The telegram said “don’t come.” This way he didn’t have to look for confirmation of what he was going to do. In a narrow passage, a trampled drunk homeless man fell out from under someone’s feet and fell right under her feet. She crawled extremely carefully along the wall so as not to touch the edge of her long fur coat. Someone pushed me in the back. Turned around. It seemed like she wanted to say something, but she couldn’t say anything, and so, unable to say anything, she froze, forgetting that she wanted to smoke because the thought was fresher. The idea that decisions can gnaw at the brain in the same way that half-smoked (in the snow) cigarettes gnaw. Where there was pain, red, inflamed dots remained, carefully hidden under the skin. She ran her hand, trying to cut off the most inflamed part, but nothing happened, and the red dots ached more and more painfully, more and more, leaving behind anger, similar to a hot broken lantern in the usual pheonite ball.

Sharply pushing part of the wall away from her, she crashed into the line, professionally throwing away all the bag-men with her confident elbows. The impudence caused a friendly opening of the mouths of seasoned ticket resellers. She pressed herself against the window, afraid that again she would not be able to say anything, but she said, and where the breath fell on the glass, the window became wet.

- One to... for today.

- And in general?

- I said no.

A sound wave of voices hit the legs, someone was vigorously tearing at the fur side, and very close by, the disgusting onion stench of someone’s hysterical mouth entered the nostrils - so the indignant masses of the people righteously tried to take her away from the railway ticket window.

– I may have a certified telegram.

- Go through the other window.

- Well, look - one ticket.

“Are you kidding me, damn you...,” said the cashier, “don’t hold up the line... you..., moved away from the cash register!”

The fur coat was no longer torn; the sound wave hitting the legs went to the floor. She pushed the heavy door that went into the sky and went out to where the frost immediately bit into her face with sharpened vampire teeth. Endless night stations floated past my eyes (other people's eyes). They shouted after us - along the taxi stands. Of course, she didn't understand a word. It seemed to her that she had forgotten all languages a long time ago, and around her, through the aquarium walls, before reaching her, human sounds were disappearing, taking the colors existing in the world with them. The walls went all the way to the bottom, not letting in the bygone symphony of color. The telegram said “don’t come, circumstances have changed.” A perfect semblance of tears dried on her eyelashes, not reaching her cheeks in the vampire frost. These tears disappeared without appearing at all and immediately, only inside, under the skin, leaving a dull callous pain, similar to a drained swamp. She took a cigarette and a lighter (in the shape of a colored fish) from her purse and took a deep breath of the smoke, which suddenly stuck in her throat like a heavy and bitter lump. She pulled the smoke into herself until the hand holding the cigarette turned into a wooden stump, and when the transformation took place, the cigarette butt fell down of its own accord, looking like a huge falling star reflected in the velvet black sky. Someone pushed again, Christmas tree needles caught on the edge of her fur coat and fell onto the snow, and once the needles fell, she turned around. Ahead, in the hare's mark, loomed a wide man's back with a Christmas tree attached to his shoulder, which danced a fantastic funny dance on its back. The back walked quickly and went farther and farther with each step, and then only needles remained in the snow. Frozen (afraid to breathe), she looked at them for a very long time, the needles looked like small lights, and when her eyes dazzled from the artificial light, she suddenly saw that the light coming from them was green. It was very quickly, and then - nothing at all, only the pain, suppressed by the speed, returned to its original place. It stung in her eyes, spun in place, her brain shrank, and inside someone said clearly and clearly “two days until the New Year,” and immediately there was no air, there was bitter smoke, hidden deep in her chest as well as in her throat . A number, black as melted snow, floated out and knocked something off my feet, carried me away through the snow, but not in one place, somewhere - from people, to people.

“Wait, you...” from the side, someone’s heavy breathing reeked of a full range of fusel oils. Turning around, I saw fox eyes under a knitted hat.

- How long can I run after you?

Was someone running after her? Nonsense. It has never been like this - in this world. There was everything, except for two poles - life and death, in complete abundance.

– Did you ask for a ticket before...?

- Let's say.

- Yes, I have it.

- How many.

– I’ll pay you for 50 as if you were my own.

- Yes, let's go..

- Well, a measly 50 bucks, I’m giving it to you as if it were my own, so take it...

- Yeah, one for today, even the lowest place.

She held the ticket up to the lantern.

– Yes, that’s right, in kind, no doubt about it.

The guy crunched and held up a 50 dollar bill to the light.

- And the train is at 2 am.

- I know.

- OK.

He melted into space, like people who do not repeat themselves in daylight melt. “Don’t come, circumstances have changed.”

She grinned. The face was a white blur on the floor with a cigarette butt stuck to his eyebrow. It protruded from under sleepy drooping eyelids, and, fitting into the dirty circle, it called far, further and further. Where she was, the sharp corners of the chair pressed on her body. Voices merged in my ears somewhere in a forgotten world behind me. A sleepy web enveloped even the facial curves in a non-existent warmth. She bowed her head down, trying to leave, and her face only became a dirty white spot in the station tiles. That night she was no longer herself. Someone born and someone dead changed in ways that could not be imagined. Without falling anywhere, she turned her face away from the floor, where the station lived a nocturnal life that was not subject to consideration. At about one o'clock in the morning a telephone call rang in one of the apartments.

- Where are you?

- I'd like to check out.

– You decided.

- He sent a telegram. One.

- Will he at least wait for you? And then, the address...

– I have to go – it’s there, in the telegram.

- Will you come back?

- Come what may.

– What if you wait a couple of days?

- This makes absolutely no sense.

- What if you come to your senses?

- There is no right to another exit.

- There is no need to go to him. No need.

“I can’t hear well—the receiver is hissing, but you speak anyway.”

- What should I say?

- Anything. As you wish.

- Satisfied, right? There is no other such idiot on earth!

– There are two days left until the New Year.

- At least you stayed for the holiday.

- I have been chosen.

- Nobody chose you.

- Doesn't matter.

- Do not leave. There's no need to go there, do you hear?

Short beeps blessed her path and the stars turned black through the glass of the telephone booth inside the sky. She thought that she was gone, but she was scared to think about it for a long time.

The train crawled slowly. The carriage windows were dimly lit, the light bulb in the reserved seat aisle was dimly lit. Leaning the back of her head against the plastic of the train partition that reflected the ice, she waited for everything to go away and the darkness outside the window to be washed away by those tears that, without appearing in the eyes, do not dry. The glass, which had not been washed for a long time, began to tremble with a small, painful tremor. The back of my head hurt from the plastic ice. Somewhere inside, a small, chilly animal was whining. “I don’t want...” somewhere inside a small, tired, sick animal cried. “I don’t want to go anywhere, I don’t want to, Lord, do you hear...”

The glass shattered with small painful tremors in time with the train. “I don’t want to leave... the little animal cried, - nowhere at all... I don’t want to go anywhere... I want to go home... I want to go home to my mother...”

The telegram said “don’t come.” This meant that staying was not an option. It seemed to her that, together with the train, she was rolling down the slimy walls of the frozen ravine, with melted snowflakes on her cheeks and Christmas tree needles on the snow, down to the most hopeless bottom, where the frozen windows of the former rooms glow with electricity in such a homely way and where the false ones dissolve in the warmth. words that there are windows on earth, to which, having abandoned everything, you can still return... she was trembling, her teeth knocked out tremors where the fast train wheezed in agony. Cringing, she thought about the Christmas tree needles stuck in the snow, and that the telegram said “don’t come,” and that there were two days left until the New Year and that one day (it warmed with a painful artificial warmth) the day would come when she would no longer need to go anywhere drive. Like an old sick beast, the train howled along the rails that happiness is the simplest thing on earth. Happiness is when there is no road.

Red flower

She hugged herself by the shoulders, enjoying the perfect velvety skin. Then she slowly smoothed her hair with her hand. Cold water is a miracle. The eyelids became the same, without retaining a single trace of what... That she cried all night the night before. Everything was washed away by the water, and we could safely move forward. She smiled at her reflection in the mirror: “I am beautiful!” Then she waved her hand indifferently.

She walked through the corridor and found herself where she was supposed to be. She took a glass of champagne from the tray, not forgetting to give a sparkling smile to either the waiter or those around her. The champagne seemed disgusting to her, and a terrible bitterness immediately froze on her bitten lips. But none of those present who filled the large hall would have guessed this. She really liked herself from the outside: a lovely woman in an expensive evening dress drinks exquisite champagne, enjoying every sip.

Of course he was there all the time. He reigned, surrounded by his servile subjects, in the heart of the great banquet hall. A socialite, with an easy charm, he strictly follows his crowd. Has everyone come - those who should come? Are everyone enchanted - those who should be enchanted? Is everyone scared and depressed - those who should be scared and depressed? A proud look from under slightly knitted eyebrows said that was all. He sat half-sitting in the center of the table, surrounded by people, and, first of all, beautiful women. Most people who met him for the first time were fascinated by his simple-minded, attractive appearance, his simplicity and ostentatious good nature. He seemed to them an ideal - an oligarch who kept it so simple! Almost like an ordinary person, like one of our own. But only those who came into contact with him closer or those who dared to ask him for money knew how, from under the outer softness, a formidable lion’s paw protruded, capable of tearing apart the culprit with a slight movement of a formidable palm.

She knew all his gestures, his words, movements and habits. She kept every wrinkle in her heart like a treasure. The years brought him money and confidence in the future, he greeted them proudly, like an ocean flagship. There were too many other people in his life to notice. Occasionally he noticed her new wrinkles or folds on her body.

- Darling, you can’t do that! You need to take care of yourself! Look in the mirror! With my money... I heard a new beauty salon has opened...

-Who did you hear it from?

He was not embarrassed:

– Yes, a new one has opened and it’s very good! Go there. Otherwise, you will soon look like you are forty-five! And I won't even be able to go out with you.

He wasn't shy about showing off his knowledge of cosmetics or fashion. On the contrary, he emphasized: “You see how the youth loves me!” He was always surrounded by these same “enlightened” golden youth. On either side of him sat the two most recent title holders. One is Miss City, the other is Miss Charm, the third is the face of a modeling agency that dragged its charges to any presentation where there might be at least one earning more than 100 thousand dollars a year. The fourth was new - she had not seen her before, but she was just as evil, mean and impudent as everyone else. Perhaps this one had even more impudence, and she noted to herself that this one would go far. That girl sat half-sitting in front of him right on the banquet table, coquettishly placing her hand on his shoulder, and burst into loud laughter in response to his words, with her whole appearance expressing a greedy predatory grip under the mask of naive carelessness. Women always occupied first places in his circle. The men crowded behind.

Squeezing the glass in her hand, she seemed to be reading her thoughts on the surface of the golden drink. Flattering, ingratiating smiles accompanied her around her - after all, she was a wife. She had been his wife for a long time, so long that he always emphasized this, which meant that she also had the main role.

Cold water is a miracle. She no longer felt her swollen eyelids. Someone touched her with his elbow:

- Ah. Expensive! – it was an acquaintance, the minister’s wife, – you look great! You are a wonderful couple, I always envy you! It’s so great to live for more than 20 years and maintain such ease in relationships! Always look at each other. Ah, wonderful!

Looking up from her annoying chatter, she really caught his gaze. He looked at her and it was like bubbles in champagne. She smiled her most charming smile, thinking that he deserved a chance…. He did not get up when she approached, and the girls did not even think of leaving when she appeared.

-Are you having fun, dear?

- Yes darling. Everything is fine?

- Wonderful! And you?

– I’m very happy for you, dear.

Their dialogue did not go unnoticed. People around thought “what a lovely couple!” And the journalists present at the banquet noted to themselves that they should mention in the article that the oligarch has such a wonderful wife.

- Dear, will you allow me to say a few words?

Taking her by the arm, he led her away from the table.

-Have you finally calmed down?

- What do you think?

“I think it’s bad to worry at your age!”

- Let me remind you that I am the same age as you!

– It’s different for men!

- Is that so?

- Let's not start over! I'm already tired of your stupid invention that I had to give you flowers today! I have so much to do, I’m spinning like a squirrel in a wheel! You should have thought about this! There was no need to cling to me with all sorts of nonsense! If you want flowers, go buy it for yourself, order it, or even buy a whole store, just leave me alone – that’s all!

She smiled her most charming smile:

- I don’t even remember anymore, dear!

- Is it true? - he was delighted, - and I was so angry when you clung to me with these flowers! I have so much to do, and you come up with all sorts of nonsense!

“It was a little feminine whim.”

- Darling, remember: little feminine whims are allowed only to young beautiful girls, like the ones sitting next to me! But it only irritates you!

- I will remember, my love. Don't be angry, don't be nervous about such trifles!

- It’s very good that you are so smart! I'm lucky with my wife! Listen, darling, we won’t be going back together. The driver will pick you up when you're tired. And I’ll go by myself, in my car, I have some things to do…. And don’t wait for me today, I won’t come to spend the night. I'll only be there for lunch tomorrow. And even then, maybe I’ll have lunch at the office and not return home.

- Will I go alone? Today?!

- Lord, what is it today?! Why are you getting on my nerves all day?

- Yes, I take up so little space in your life...

- What does this have to do with it! You take up a lot of space, you are my wife! And I carry you with me everywhere! So don't start!

- Fine, I will not. I did not want.

- That's good! There is nothing left for you to want!

And, grinning, he returned back, where too many - much more important - were waiting impatiently. From his point of view, more special than his wife. She smiled. Her smile was beautiful. It was an expression of happiness - enormous happiness that could not be contained! Returning to the toilet room again and locking the doors tightly behind her, she took out a small mobile phone.

- I confirm. After half an hour.

In the hall, she again lavished smiles - demonstrating (and she did not need to demonstrate, that’s how she felt) a huge surge of happiness. These were the happiest moments - moments of anticipation... So, beaming, she slipped into the narrow corridor near the service entrance, from where the exit was clearly visible, and clung to the window. Half an hour later, familiar figures appeared in the narrow doors. It was her husband's two guards, and her husband. Her husband hugging the new girl. And the kisser is on the go. Everyone hurried to the shiny black Mercedes, the husband’s latest acquisition, which cost 797 thousand dollars. He loved expensive cars. Loved it very much.

The doors swung open and the dark interior of the car swallowed them completely. The guards remained outside. One was saying something on the radio - probably warning those at the entrance that the car was already coming.

The explosion sounded with deafening force, destroying the hotel's illumination, trees and glass. Everything was mixed up: screams, roar, ringing. Fiery tongues of flame that shot up to the very sky licked the mangled body of the Mercedes, turned into a huge funeral pyre.

She hugged herself by the shoulders and automatically smoothed her hair, enjoying the inner voice: “I gave you the most beautiful red flower! Happy wedding day, dear."

Only true experts on the human soul can create short stories about love. It is not so easy to depict deep-seated experiences in a work of short prose. The Russian classic Ivan Bunin did an excellent job with this. Ivan Turgenev, Alexander Kuprin, Leonid Andreev and other writers also created interesting short stories about love. In this article we will look at authors of foreign and domestic literature, whose works contain small lyrical works.

Ivan Bunin

Short stories about love... What should they be? In order to understand this, you need to read Bunin's works. This writer is an unsurpassed master of sentimental prose. His works are examples of this genre. The famous collection “Dark Alleys” includes thirty-eight romantic stories. In each of them, the author not only revealed the deep experiences of his characters, but was also able to convey how powerful love is. After all, this feeling can change a person’s destiny.

Such short stories about love as “Caucasus”, “Dark Alleys”, “Late Hour” can tell more about a great feeling than hundreds of sentimental novels.

Leonid Andreev

Love for all ages. Talented writers dedicated short stories about love not only to the pure feelings of young people. For an essay on this topic, which is sometimes asked at school, the material can be the work of Leonid Andreev “Herman and Martha”, the main characters of which are extremely far from the age of Romeo and Juliet. The action of this story takes place in one of the cities of the Leningrad region at the beginning of the century. Then the place where the tragic event described by the Russian writer took place belonged to Finland. According to the laws of this country, people who have reached the age of fifty can marry only with the permission of their children.

The love story of Herman and Martha was sad. The closest people in their lives did not want to understand the feelings of two middle-aged people. The heroes of Andreev’s story could not be together, and therefore the story ended tragically.

Vasily Shukshin

Short stories about, if they are created by a real artist, are especially heartfelt. After all, there is nothing stronger in the world than the feeling that a woman experiences for her child. Screenwriter and director Vasily Shukshin told about this with sad irony in the story “A Mother’s Heart.”

The main character of this work is in trouble through his own fault. But the mother’s heart, although wise, does not recognize any logic. A woman overcomes unimaginable obstacles to free her son from prison. “A Mother’s Heart” is one of the most heartfelt works of Russian prose dedicated to love.

Lyudmila Kulikova

Another work about the most powerful feeling is the story “We Met.” Lyudmila Kulikova dedicated it to the love of her mother, whose life ends after the betrayal of her only beloved son. This woman breathes, talks, smiles. But she no longer lives. After all, the son, who was the meaning of her life, did not make himself known for more than twenty years. Kulikova's story is heartfelt, sad and very instructive. Mother's love is the brightest thing a person can have. To betray her would be to commit the greatest sin.

Anatoly Aleksin

A short story called “Homemade Essay” is dedicated to both maternal and youthful love. One day, Aleksin’s hero, the boy Dima, discovers a letter in an old thick encyclopedia. The message was written many years ago, and its author is no longer alive. He was a tenth grade student, and the addressee was a classmate with whom he was in love. But the letter remained unanswered, because the war came. The author of the letter died without sending it. The girl for whom the romantic lines were intended graduated from school, college, and got married. Her life went on. The mother of the author of this letter stopped smiling forever. After all, it is impossible to survive your child.

Stefan Zweig

The famous Austrian prose writer also created long and short stories about love. One of these works is called “Letter from a Stranger.” When you read the confession of the heroine of this short story, who all her life loved a man who did not remember her face or name, you become very sad. But at the same time, there is hope that a real sublime and selfless feeling still exists, and is not just an artistic invention of a talented writer.

Can short stories about love reflect all the faces of this versatile feeling? After all, if you look closely at trembling experiences, you can notice tender love, serious mature relationships, destructive passion, selfless and unrequited attraction. Many classics and modern writers turn to the eternal, but still not fully understood theme of love. It’s not even worth listing the huge works that describe this exciting feeling. Both domestic and foreign authors intended to show the quivering beginning not only in novels or stories, but also in small stories about love.

Variety of love stories

Can love be measured? After all, it can be different - to a girl, mother, child, native land. Many little stories about love teach not only young lovers, but also children and their parents to express their feelings. Anyone who loves, has loved, or wants to love, would do well to read Sam McBratney's very touching story "Do You Know How Much I Love You?" Just one page of text, but so much sense! This little love story of a bunny teaches about the importance of admitting your feelings.

And how much value there is in a few pages of Henri Barbusse’s story “Tenderness”! The author shows great love, causing boundless tenderness in the heroine. He and She loved each other, but fate cruelly separated them, since She was much older. Her love is so strong that the woman promises to write letters to him after breaking up so that her loved one will not suffer so much. These letters became the only connecting thread between them for 20 years. They were the embodiment of love and tenderness, giving strength to life.

In total, the heroine wrote four letters, which her beloved received periodically. The ending of the story is very tragic: in the last letter, Louis learns that She committed suicide on the second day after breaking up, and wrote these letters to him with a view to 20 years in advance. The reader does not need to take the heroine’s action as a model; Barbusse simply wanted to show that it is important for a selflessly loving person to know that his feelings continue to live.

Different sides of love are shown in R. Kipling's story "Arrows of Cupid" and in Leonid Andreev's work "Herman and Martha." The story of Anatoly Aleksin’s first love, “Home Essay,” is dedicated to his youthful experiences. A 10th grade student is in love with his classmate. This is the story of how the hero’s tender feelings were cut short by the war.

The moral beauty of lovers in O. Henry's story "The Gift of the Magi"

This story by a famous author is about pure love, which is characterized by self-sacrifice. The plot revolves around a poor married couple, Jim and Della. Although they are poor, they try to give each other nice gifts at Christmas. To give a worthy gift to her husband, Della sells her gorgeous hair, and Jim traded his favorite valuable watch for a gift.

What did O. Henry want to show with such actions of the heroes? Both spouses wanted to do everything to make their loved one happy. The true gift for them is devoted love. Having sold things dear to their hearts, the heroes did not lose anything, because they still had the most important thing - priceless love for each other.

A woman's confession in Stefan Zweig's story "Letter from a Stranger"

The famous Austrian writer Stefan Zweig also wrote long and short stories about love. One of them is the essay “Letter from a Stranger.” This creation is imbued with sadness, because the heroine loved a man all her life, but he didn’t even remember her face or name. The stranger expressed all her tender feelings in her letters. Zweig wanted to show readers that real selfless and sublime feelings exist, and you need to believe in them so that they do not become a tragedy for someone.

O. Wilde about the beauty of the inner world in the fairy tale “The Nightingale and the Rose”

A short story about O. Wilde’s love “The Nightingale and the Rose” has a very complex idea. This fairy tale teaches people to value love, because without it there is no point in living in the world. The Nightingale became the spokesman for tender feelings. For their sake, he sacrificed his life and his singing. It is important to find out love correctly, so as not to lose a lot later.

Wilde also argues that you don’t need to love a person just for their beauty, it is important to look into his soul: perhaps he only loves himself. Appearance and money are not the most important thing, the main thing is spiritual wealth, inner peace. If you only think about appearance, it can end badly.

Trilogy of Chekhov's stories "About Love"

Three small stories formed the basis of A.P. Chekhov's "Little History". They are told by friends to each other while hunting. One of them, Alyohin, spoke about his love for a married lady. The hero was very attracted to her, but was afraid to admit it. The characters' feelings were mutual, but not revealed. One day, Alyohin finally decided to confess his affection, but it was too late - the heroine left.

Chekhov makes it clear that you don’t need to close yourself off from your real feelings, it’s better to have courage and give free rein to your emotions. He who encloses himself in a case loses his happiness. The heroes of this short story about love themselves killed love, sank to base feelings and doomed themselves to misfortune.

The heroes of the trilogy realized their mistakes and are trying to move on; they do not give up, but move forward. Perhaps they will still have a chance to save their souls.

Kuprin's love stories

Sacrificial love, giving all of oneself without reserve to a loved one, is inherent in Kuprin’s stories. So Alexander Ivanovich wrote a very sensual story “The Lilac Bush”. The main character of the story, Verochka, always helps her husband, a design student, with his studies so that he receives a diploma. She does all this in order to see him happy.

One day Almazov was making a drawing of the area for a test and accidentally made an ink. In place of this blot he drew a bush. Verochka found a way out of this situation: she found money, bought a lilac bush and planted it overnight in the place where the blot appeared on the drawing. The professor checking the work was very surprised by this incident, because before there was no bush there. The test was submitted.

Verochka is very rich spiritually and mentally, and her husband is a weak, narrow-minded and pathetic person compared to her. Kuprin shows the problem of unequal marriage in terms of spiritual and mental development.

Bunin's "Dark Alleys"

What should short love stories be like? The small works of Ivan Bunin answer this question. The author wrote a whole series of short stories under the same name with one of the stories - “Dark Alleys”. All these little creations are connected by one theme - love. The author presents the reader with the tragic and even catastrophic nature of love.

The collection "Dark Alleys" is also called the encyclopedia of love. Bunin in it shows the contact of two from different sides. In the book you can see a gallery of female portraits. Among them you can see young women, matured girls, respectable ladies, peasant women, prostitutes, and models. Each story from this collection has its own shade of love.