Она подошла к моей стойке "Выдача гарантийных талонов"...

She came to my stand "Issuance of warranty cards" at the very end of the shift. Nice looking, but pale, almost gray, eyes hollow, black circles beneath them. She is dressed as it is fashionable, but it is clear that she follows the clothes insofar as. In her hands she squeezed a box of the cheapest Chinese cardboard. "Here, I would like to issue a guarantee for this screwdriver," she said. Wow, what interesting words the girl knows. "Well, let's see if this is your miracle of technology at all." Out of the box, I removed a clumsily assembled cordless screwdriver made from disgusting gray plastic, a strange charger and a spare battery. Humming to myself, I pressed the button on the unit. To my great surprise, the machine purred and even began to rotate the working part. Taking out the charger, I plugged the plug into one of the many sockets on my rack. Surprisingly, the charger began to flash a little light, which means it was quite efficient. "Well, it looks like your screwdriver is working, now we are going to guarantee." Is he drafted? What and where is she going to screw? And why such a shitty unit - add five hundred rubles - and buy a "company" that will definitely work longer than the next morning. Anyway, the warranty is full, the stamps have been delivered, and the miracle of Chinese engineers is safely packed back into their hideous box. "Here, hold, everything is ready, the guarantee is a year (haha), all the best to you." Well, why? What for? This question bothers me, this strange look of her, that she avoids looking at my face ... She puts the box in a worn bag and heads for the exit. I can not stand. "Girl, well, why do you need this stuff? Let me advise the company better." She turned around, looking me straight in the eye for the first time: “Why, are they different? I took it first.” Yes, I really understand it. She: "Nothing, nothing, he will surely like my gift. After all, he doesn’t expect anything like that from him. He will like it, he likes to repair and drill everything, well, you understand how you all are men. like it, and he ... "Then she realizes what she said too much, turns around and quickly walks out of the hypermarket. And I understood everything. Why, why, fuck, did I understand all this? I drove home in a strange prostration, my thoughts were amorphous and for some reason constantly returned to the comparison of the color of her face and the color of this Chinese craftsmen. When I arrived home, I just threw off my dirty shoes and walked into the room that I call “my office” (lel), took Pinky Pie plush from the window sill and sat on the edge of the bed — I don’t even know — for an hour, hugging her and looking at the snowy night landscape behind a window on which no curtains hung in a long time ...