Marhaba

She is here. She should be inside somewhere. I came to the airport earlier than I should. The plane from Moscow also arrived fifteen minutes before ETA. The crowd is so colorful. The humidity is killing me. The driver is following me like a devoted stray dog and helps me to unwrap the red rose from the cellophane prison. There she is… I could recognize her among thousands of the same height, shape, colors… Marhaba sladkaya…

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