Vera did not believe in fortune telling. Her friends persuaded her to join the Christmas fortune-telling party. We decided to meet with Olga, who lived in a neighboring house. Vera decided that if she got completely bored, she would quickly leave under some pretext.
At first, everything went well, because they told how who spent the New Year, discussed relationships with lovers, if any.
Then the light in the room was turned off, leaving only the burning candles. We started with wax divination. Trying to find something realistic in their figures, everyone laughed for a long time. Then Olga remembered the old fortune-telling about her betrothed. For this, a magic circle was taken, along which, it was assumed, the arrow should move under the influence of general energy. The girls decided that they needed to start with Vera, because she didn't even have a permanent boyfriend. At first, the magic arrow stood rooted to the spot. Then Olga read some strange text, and the arrow began to move. True, the phrase she gave out was incomprehensible and even scary: "Sick leg." All the girls thought that Vera was going to marry a lame man, which immediately created a melancholy mood. Vying with each other, the girlfriends began to calm Vera, building their own versions of what this could mean. This was unpleasant for Vera. Angry with her compassionate friends, Vera said:
- I am going home.
Without explanation, I got up, dressed and went out into the street. The winter evening landscape lifted the spirits a little. The snow was beautifully silvery, additionally decorated with confetti from fireworks and fireworks. Admiring all this, she took the first step and collapsed on the slippery porch. The infernal pain in her leg made Vera scream all over the yard. "So this is what the fortune-telling warned about!" - thought Vera and began to examine her leg. Judging by the sensations, there was clearly a fracture. Then a handsome young man of about 30 ran up to Vera.
- Girl! Are you okay?
“Not really,” Vera answered.
He ran away somewhere, returned with two planks, which he attached to his sore leg and tied with his obviously expensive branded scarf.
- You just don't move your leg, okay?
Vera nodded. A few seconds later, he was already driving Vera to the hospital in his jeep. It turned out that Nikolai, as the savior was called, was a surgeon himself, who had just returned from shift, but was forced to come back to his hospital with a patient.
The plaster that was applied to Vera that day is now kept as a family heirloom. "Sick leg" - so Vera, at times, in the manner of the Indians, calls her husband Nikolai, who gave her not only health, but also boundless happiness.
