In the carriage of a train traveling from Novo-Uren’goy to Moscow, the heavy atmosphere was thick with the aromas of fried food and the stale air of an unventilated space. Valeriy, a man of short stature with a square jaw and tired eyes, shrouded by a murky film of sleepless nights, absentmindedly rubbed his palm against the fogged window. Three months on a remote drilling rig beneath the unyielding dome of the polar night had pushed him to his limits.
Right before him, a woman appeared, accidentally brushing his shoulder with her satchel-like briefcase. He tensed, ready to unleash his irritation, but froze when he met the calm, attentive gaze of her brown eyes.
“Excuse me,” she said quietly but firmly. “There’s always such a crush on these trains.”
Valeriy merely snorted, casting an appraising glance at her figure. Judging by her appearance, she must have been in her fifties. Her gray suit looked impeccable, and her hair, the color of mature walnuts, was neatly gathered in a bun. She clearly wasn’t one of those who traveled on shifts.
“Oh, it’s nothing,” he mumbled, trying to hide his discontent.
“My name is Tamara,” she continued, extending her hand. “We’re neighbors in this carriage for the next twenty-four hours.”
“Valeriy,” he replied, shaking her warm, surprisingly dry hand. “I’m traveling from my shift.”
“Oh, that’s such a difficult job…” Her voice was soft but sincere. “Perhaps you’d like some tea? I have a thermos.”
“I wouldn’t refuse,” he said after a pause.
Tamara took a thermos out of her bag, along with a pack of homemade cookies. While pouring the tea, she casually asked, “Do you have family waiting for you at home?”
He flinched as if struck by electricity, burning himself with the hot tea as it splashed on his wrist.
“There was a family… Now only alimony,” he grumbled, restraining his irritation.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…” she offered him a napkin.
“Oh, it’s alright… It’s all normal. It’s been five years since the divorce,” he muttered, roughly wiping his hand.
“And since then you’ve been alone?” she ventured again.
“Are you implying a date?” Valeriy snapped, but then immediately realized his rudeness. “Sorry, I’m just tired of questions…”
“You know, I was married too,” Tamara replied calmly. “But I was widowed ten years ago.”
“Damn… I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…” he stammered.
“It’s all right,” she smiled. “Life goes on. Now I have another reality: work, a daughter, a grandson.”
“And what do you do?” Valeriy tried to change the subject, wanting to make up for his brusqueness.
“I’m a librarian. Been at it for thirty years.”
“Really?” he raised his eyebrows in surprise. “I thought libraries had long disappeared. Nowadays, the Internet is everywhere.”
“You’re mistaken,” Tamara’s voice became firmer, even with metallic undertones. “People still need libraries. Especially now, when we’re all immersed in the world of gadgets.”
“Sure, of course,” he turned back to the window. “But who needs paper books in the age of digital technology?”
“And who needs drillers when there are robots?” she countered. “Do you think that man is always better than machine?”
He abruptly turned to her, his face flaring up.
“That’s a completely different matter! We create real values! Real things!” he retorted, feeling an energy surge inside him, mixed with fatigue and resentment.
“And we create what holds your world together,” Tamara calmly replied. “Without us, your material achievements would turn into a void.”
Outside, twilight deepened, and the carriage sank into semi-darkness, illuminated only by the soft glow of the night lamps. Most passengers had already fallen asleep, yet Valeriy and Tamara continued their conversation in voices lowered to near whispers.
“You know,” he said, stirring sugar into his fourth cup of tea, “I used to be a true book lover. I was especially drawn to stories of travel and adventure.”
“And what changed?” Tamara leaned in closer, carefully studying his face.
“Life took its toll. Work, family obligations, financial responsibilities… Books fell to the wayside.”
“And now, when your family no longer waits for you?”
“Now…” he hesitated, as if searching for the right words. “Now, honestly, there isn’t much desire. On my shift, time is spent watching TV programs or playing cards…”
“Is it scary?” she suddenly asked.
“What exactly?”
“To be left alone with yourself. A book is just you and your thoughts, nothing else to distract them.”
Valeriy felt a simmering irritation welling up inside him: “What, are you trying to be my psychologist? Trying to fix my soul?”
“No,” Tamara shook her head. “I’m simply noticing a man who has caged himself and is afraid to step beyond its boundaries.”
“And who are you to judge me?” he raised his voice, and someone upstairs grumbled disapprovingly. “Do you think that because you read ‘smart’ books, you automatically become an expert on other people’s lives?”
“I see that you’re angry,” she replied, remaining calm. “And you know why? Because I’m right.”
“Enough!” Valeriy abruptly stood up. “Thanks for the tea, but I think I’m going to sleep.”
“Of course,” she nodded, also rising. “Run along. That’s your thing, isn’t it?”
He froze in place: “What did you say?”
“Just what you heard. You’re always running away from anything that could touch you deeply. From family—into remote work, from loneliness—into entertainment, from conversation—into sleep…”
“How dare you!” he loomed over her, trying to appear more threatening. “You… you…”
“What about me?” she looked up at him from below, yet in that moment it seemed she towered over him. “Speak up.”
“You’re just a lonely middle-aged woman sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong!” he snapped.
The carriage was filled with such silence that the sound of water dripping could be heard somewhere. Tamara slowly returned to her seat: “Now everything becomes clear. Good night, Valeriy.”
He stood frozen for several more seconds, feeling his cheeks burn with shame and anger, then silently returned to his shelf. But sleep eluded him—throughout the night he tossed and turned, replaying every phrase of their dialogue in his head, as if trying to find some hidden meaning.
At dawn, Tamara gathered her personal belongings and moved to the opposite end of the carriage. Valeriy watched her departure gloomily, battling the internal urge to follow her and apologize. But his pride prevailed.
In Yaroslavl, she left the train without so much as a backward glance. Only then did he notice the worn copy of Exupéry’s “The Little Prince” left on the table. Opening the book, Valeriy found a note tucked between its pages:
“When you decide to step out of your prison – call me. T.”
And following that was a telephone number.
Three months later, Valeriy stood before the entrance of a library, tightly clutching that same tattered copy. Those three months on the rig had been filled not only with endless work but also with reading. He’d read “The Little Prince” seven times, each time uncovering new meanings.
Through the glass doors, he saw a familiar figure in a gray suit. Tamara was explaining something to a young woman, gesturing towards the shelves. His heart thumped loudly in his chest.
“Hello,” he greeted in a husky voice. “I’m here to return the book…”
Tamara slowly turned around. Surprise flickered across her face. “You really decided to come.”
“It’s been three months. I… have done a lot of thinking.”
“And what did you come to understand?” she asked, stepping back to her workspace, gesturing for him to follow.
“You were right about my cage,” he placed the book on the table. “I was always running away. From myself, from real life…”
“And what has changed now?” she inquired, sitting down with her arms folded.
“I realized I was tired of constantly fleeing. I want… I want to start living a full life.”
“Is that why you came to Yaroslavl?”
“That’s why I called and found a job at a local factory,” he sighed deeply. “I left my post on the drilling rig.”
Tamara suddenly stood up, exclaiming, “What have you done? How could you make such a decision without…”
“Without consulting you?” he interrupted. “And why should I? You yourself said I needed to break out of that cage. So I did.”
“That’s madness!” she exclaimed, lowering her voice so as not to attract the attention of the readers. “You gave up a stable job for… for what?”
“For hope,” he answered simply. “For the chance to find happiness. For you.”
“No,” Tamara shook her head. “No, no, no. I can’t take on such responsibility. You need to return immediately and…”
“And what? Continue merely existing instead of living?” he stepped forward. “You know what I realized in these three months? The most frightening prison is our own fears. I was afraid of change, and you are afraid of your feelings.”
“Enough!” she nearly cried out. “You have no right to say that…”
“I do. Because I am deeply attached to you.”
A year later, in a small but cozy apartment on the outskirts of Yaroslavl, a soft light glowed. On the table sat two cups of steaming tea, and in a vase were displayed Tamara’s favorite carnations.
“Can you believe it,” she said with a smile, “today my grandson asked why his grandmother always seems to glow from within.”
“And how did you explain it?” Valeriy asked as he gently put his arm around her shoulder.
“I said it was because I feel incredibly happy.” He tenderly kissed her temple. “And do you remember how you pushed me away? ‘Madness,’ ‘recklessness’…” “Yes, I remember,” she sighed. “I was truly afraid. I feared that you would just have fun and disappear.” “And I was worried that you wouldn’t be able to trust me.”
“You know,” Tamara turned to face him, “even back then on the train, I realized – you were different from everyone else. Simply lost, searching for your path.” “And you found me,” he smiled. “And helped me choose a way out of the labyrinth.”
Outside, the snow slowly fell, covering the city with a fluffy white blanket. On the shelf among other books stood the worn copy of “The Little Prince” – their special symbol. It was the story of how important it is to meet the person who helps break through fears and shatter the wall of loneliness.
They sat in silence, enjoying the gentle ticking of the clock and the rustle of falling snow. Sometimes words are unnecessary—it is enough simply to be near one another, feeling each other’s warmth and knowing that you have finally found a place where you can be yourself. Not in the sense of a physical space, but in the sense of having someone beside you with whom you can fully open up, without masks, without escapes, without fears.
Tamara softly hummed her favorite tune while turning the pages of a new book. Valeriy watched her and thought that sometimes fate creates astonishing coincidences precisely when they are most needed. And that true love can blossom at any age—provided you are ready to open your heart.