For a piece of bread, he agreed to help the cook of a wealthy house carry some heavy bags. But as soon as the lady of the house saw him at the door, she froze and couldn’t utter a word.

“Miss, may I help you?” the man called to the woman, noticing how she was struggling to carry two heavy bags. “Sorry to approach so suddenly, but it seems the bags are about to slip out of your hands. Allow me to carry them.”

“Really? Are you sure? Aren’t they too heavy?” the woman smiled shyly. “Thank you very much.”

The man took the bags easily, as if they were empty, and walked forward with a firm and confident stride. The woman, pretty and somewhat plump, quickened her pace behind him, trying not to be left behind. Together they looked almost comical: he, tall, strong, with a determined stride as if he were marching in a parade; And she, small, soft, round like a fresh cheesecake, her curls bouncing with every step. For every one of his steps, she had to take two.

“Please slow down a bit!” she gasped. “I’m completely out of breath.”

He, as if coming out of a trance, turned around:

“Sorry, I was lost in thought.”

“If it’s not a secret, what was I thinking so deeply about?” the woman asked, looking at him intently.

Her name was Galina, and she noticed immediately that the man wasn’t dressed for summer: his clothes were worn, patched in places, and he looked lost, as if he had accidentally entered this world. Her curiosity didn’t let her walk silently beside him.

“Well, come on, tell me, what made you think so much?”

“Just about myself… about life,” she sighed.

“So what about it? Is life difficult?”

“No, not exactly…” she shook her head. “I just think a lot.”

“Oh, maybe you drink too?” he asked cautiously.

“No, no. I’m not that kind of person.”

“Thank God,” Galina nodded, relieved. “And what’s your name? By the way, I’m Galina, but you can call me Galka.”

The man hesitated, as if remembering or, on the contrary, trying to forget something important.

“My name is Vaska… that’s what they call me.”

“They call you? Don’t you like your real name?”

“It’s not that…” he lowered his gaze. “Only I don’t know what my real name is.”

Galina froze in surprise, but quickly recovered:

“So you don’t remember?”

“Exactly. I have a gap in my memory. They found me on the road, barely alive. Dirty, beaten, with my clothes torn. I was lying there like an abandoned puppy. Someone stopped, called an ambulance, and I was taken to the hospital.”

“My God… And you don’t remember anything about yourself?”

“No memory. Sometimes a few images appear: faces, rooms, fragments of conversations, flashes of light… But it all feels like someone else’s movie.”

“And what happened after the hospital?”

“They sent me to an orphanage. They gave me a temporary name—Vasily. Since then, I’ve lived like this. Thank goodness I’m not on the streets; I have a roof over my head, food, and a job.”

“What kind of work do you do?”

“Whatever comes up. Odd jobs: loader, assistant at the market, sometimes helping a butcher, cleaning. I earn a little, but enough to live.”

“And what did you do before? Do you remember anything?”

“Nothing. It’s like I was born again. I had to learn everything from scratch. Not how to crawl, but how to live.”

“Your fate isn’t easy, Vasya. But if you haven’t broken, you’ll keep going. Memory is unpredictable: today it’s silent, tomorrow it can return.”

“Maybe it’s true…”

“Of course it is! Why torment yourself over what you don’t remember? Live with what you have. And I see you’re a strong, hard-working guy. Would you like to find a job?”

“A lot.”

“Then come with me. I’ll talk to the lady of the house. She has a big house and a lot of work. Maybe we can find something for you.”

“That’s great. Come on, why are we standing here?”

It was then that Vasily realized they had been standing here for several minutes, attracting the attention of passersby.

“Is it far?”

“No, very close. I usually go by car, but today the driver is busy—so I came myself. The lady ordered a turkey.”

“And what do you do for her?”

“I’m a cook. The work is hard, but the conditions are good. The lady is kind, although quiet. She changed a lot after the death of her son and husband. But she pays well and doesn’t mistreat anyone.”

“If she has such a large and personal house, she must be rich, right?”

“Maybe. It’s not my business to count money. I just need pots and pans.”

They approached a large wrought-iron gate. Behind it stood a two-story house, surrounded by greenery. Jasmine bloomed on both sides of the gate, filling the air with a sweet scent. Vasily suddenly stopped. Something stirred in his chest, as if a memory wanted to awaken, but it immediately disappeared like smoke.

“Why did you stop? Come on, don’t be afraid.”

They entered the house, walked along an orderly path, and reached the

The kitchen: spacious, bright, welcoming, filled with the smells of homemade food.

“Here we are. This is my little world—here are my pots and pans. Come in, look around. In the meantime, I’ll take lunch to the lady and ask her about work for you. I’m sure there’ll be something to do.”
Vasily looked around. For the first time in a long time, a strange feeling overwhelmed him: warmth, comfort, and even a certain familiarity…