“I see, so you have to handle cows,” Zhanna Igorevna finished.
There was not a shadow of bitterness on Liza’s face, she just smiled.
“Cows, pigs, horses and cats, dogs – everyone! Even animals get sick sometimes.”
“Of course, of course! There is no one here to treat people, but cows – come on!” the woman cried sincerely.
…Overall, the resident made a good impression on Zhanna: he was modest, not naughty, quiet, obedient, tidy, kept the apartment in order, cooked for himself, and even offered the housekeeper food.
Liza especially loved pancakes – they were appetizing, paper-thin and golden brown. Zsanna reached for such delicacies! These pancakes were real culinary wonders – they melted in her mouth almost instantly.
Zsanna Igorevna and Liza even became friends and sometimes sat together in the evenings over a cup of tea.
And everything would have gone well, Liza would have finished her studies peacefully and would have lived in Zsanna Igorevna’s rented room. But after six months of working in Poland, Zsanna’s son, Mikhail, returned home.
He was a strong young man, and one might even say handsome.
“It’s okay, Dad,” his mother sighed.
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