Lucky

Denis closed his eyes and, for a moment, imagined himself on a seaside shore. A wicker rattan chair creaked pleasantly beneath him, a yellow tropical cocktail rested in his hands, and a fresh, salty breeze brushed against his face…

— What, are you sleeping or something? Your papers are on the printer — grab them before someone uses them as scrap, — Pavel from the neighboring office chuckled. — And hey, the workday’s already over. Enough slaving away. Today’s your last day, right?

— Yeah, — Denis nodded. — Flight’s tonight.

— Lucky you, — his colleague said enviously. — You’ll be soaking up the sun over there… If things go bad, come back.

The glass door slammed shut, and Denis was alone again in the office. Oh, Pavel! Interrupted him at the most interesting moment — he had just started imagining a pretty mulatto girl. Well, no matter. Time to go pick up the documents.

***

Denis had been working at this company for five years. Stability was important, of course, but the salary was low. A mortgage or even a car was out of the question — simply impossible. From time to time, a heavy gloom would descend on him, and he would spend entire days browsing job listings online.

Luck turned its face toward him completely unexpectedly: a foreign company called and offered him a job. And not just anywhere — in Cyprus! Denis could hardly believe it. Didn’t they have enough architects of their own abroad? After a lengthy correspondence, he signed the offer and submitted his resignation.

The recruiter warned him to bring a printed portfolio and digital copies of his achievements from his current job. Thorough to the core, Denis burned two disks with all the necessary files — just in case — and, of course, didn’t forget the paper documents.

He looked around his workspace with a twinge of sadness. So much time spent within these walls — frightening to think about. But now it was only forward, toward new victories! He just needed to grab his favorite mug from the office kitchen.

The oddities began the moment Denis returned to his office with the mug in hand. The prepared documents were gone from the desk. He clearly remembered placing the printed papers into a folder, adding the disks, and heading to the kitchen. But now the desk was empty.

He looked under the table, checked the drawers — maybe he had absentmindedly put the folder somewhere else.

— I don’t understand… — Denis muttered, turning his head, hoping the documents would somehow catch his eye. But nothing.

There was only one option: reprint everything immediately and leave the office as fast as possible. He still needed to stop by home and pack his suitcase. But the computer refused to turn on. The screen glowed blue, displaying something written in a language Denis barely understood.

— What the hell… — sweat beaded on his forehead. Just what he needed — for this hunk of metal to decide to update itself, of all times!

Growing anxious, Denis called the in-house IT specialist.

— Semyonych, hi, it’s Denis. Listen, I’ve got a problem, my computer won’t start… What do you mean there’s nothing you can do?

It turned out Semyonych had already gone home and had no intention of returning — especially not for a computer belonging to a Denis who had already quit.

— Damn it! — Denis snapped, hanging up. Just in case, he checked the drawers again and even the trash bin. Nothing. The folder had vanished as if it had never existed.

It was almost nine o’clock. There was no time left to hesitate. Check-in began three hours before departure, and he still had to pick up his things.

Denis called a taxi, deciding to fly without the documents. He couldn’t possibly cancel the tickets now. He could try to print everything remotely once he arrived.

***

— Could you go any faster? — Denis asked irritably. In the past hour and a half, he had managed to get home, pack a suitcase, and call a taxi to the airport.

— Faster than this? The bridge is under repair — everyone’s taking detours, that’s why there’s traffic, — the driver explained.

Denis stared out the window in dismay. The cars really were crawling like turtles. He might as well get out and walk — but dragging a suitcase through rough roads wasn’t much of an option either. All that remained was to hope the traffic jam would dissolve on its own and time would slow down.

***

No miracle happened. Denis burst into the airport, out of breath, just as boarding was announced to be complete.

— Miss, please, I really need to… You see, there was traffic, they’re repairing a bridge, — Denis pleaded at the check-in counter. — The plane hasn’t left yet, has it? Can’t I get through?

The woman shook her head.

— I’m sorry, there’s nothing I can do. The plane is already taxiing.

Through the glass, Denis could only watch as the thread leading to his happy future snapped. Flashing its lights, the Boeing lifted off and roared into the sky. In a burst of rage, Denis slammed his fist against a nearby stone column. What now? In three hours, he was supposed to be in Larnaca. The next flight to Cyprus wasn’t for two more days. Connections? He had no extra money — the night before, he’d thrown a farewell party and spent almost everything.

***

Exhausted, furious, hungry, he returned home. He didn’t want to see or speak to anyone.

The empty fridge offered only a bottle of Pepsi and a dried-out piece of cheese. He had been planning to leave for a long time — keeping food would have been pointless. After a meager snack, Denis collapsed onto the bed. After such a long, miserable night, he needed sleep to figure out what to do next.

His sleep was restless. He dreamed he was running down a runway after a plane, unable to catch it… until a persistent phone call pulled him from the nightmare.

— Hello! Thank goodness you picked up! When I saw what happened, I almost fainted, — his mother, Irina Timofeevna, rattled anxiously. — Did you make it there?

— I’m home, — Denis yawned, sitting up. The clock read 9:15 — absurdly early. On weekends, he never got up before noon. — Something went wrong… Long story. I didn’t fly.

He didn’t want to burden his mother with details. She would only worry and start giving advice.

— Turn on the TV, — she continued. — They’re talking about it right now. I had a bad feeling — didn’t sleep all night!

Denis obeyed and pressed the button on the remote. A pretty news anchor appeared on the screen, and then… footage showing where a plane had disappeared from radar and how rescuers were searching for survivors.

— Thus, the aircraft spent only thirty minutes of its three-hour flight before apparently losing speed and entering a steep dive. Search for the black boxes is ongoing, but given the nature of the crash, there is no hope of survivors, — the anchor read mechanically. — On to other news…

From shock, Denis nearly dropped his phone. The plane he was supposed to be on had crashed? That meant he wasn’t the unluckiest person alive, as he’d thought just hours earlier — quite the opposite. He was fortune’s favorite. By sheer coincidence, he had missed the fatal flight.

The phone beeped again — an unfamiliar number on the other line. Denis quickly said goodbye to his mother and answered. Maybe it was the foreign employer calling? Instead, he heard the familiar voice of Sergey, the security guard from work. The day before, while searching for his missing folder, Denis had asked him to check the cameras. It hadn’t helped — the cameras only covered the hallway.

— Denis? They found your folder, — Sergey reported cheerfully. — It was on the windowsill, behind the blinds. The cleaning lady found it this morning. So yeah — you owe me sushi. Come pick it up.

Denis only snorted nervously in response. How could he have forgotten? He himself had put the folder on the windowsill near the door, closed the blinds — and immediately forgot about it!

The phone rang again. His mother.

— Well, have you digested it? — she asked. — I always told you, you’re a lucky one! But you hung up on me — I wasn’t finished! Do you remember Marina Ivanovna? Fedorova. They need an architect at the ministry — head of department, no less. I mentioned you… Maybe forget Cyprus?

— Head of department? Mom, I’ll think about it…

— Do that — but not for long. She asked you to contact her tomorrow.

Denis ended the call. Maybe she was right. Where you’re born, that’s where you’re useful…

And the mulatto girl can wait.

Tatyana Sh.