On the table, flowers of burdock trembled in a glass. The wheels clacked rhythmically. The train was heading towards the sunset.
In the compartment, three young girls were returning home after their internship, accompanied by an elderly woman of about seventy-five, who wished to visit her small homeland.
One of the girls, buried in her pillow, lamented loudly:
"I was gone for just two months, and he’s already with someone else… What’s wrong with me? What makes her better than me?"
Her friends, each in their own way, tried to comfort her:
"Forget him! You’ll meet someone even better! If he’s jumped to another girl, he’s not worth a penny, especially not your tears!"
The second girl, hanging from the upper bunk, was furious: "And what of it! She lived with him for two years! She washed his dirty underwear and stinky socks, cooked him breakfast! And after that, just hand over your boyfriend to some red-haired little twig on a silver platter?! You have to fight for your love! By all means! With all your strength! No time for tears; you need to think about how to bring your stallion back to the stable!"
The woman, who had been silently gazing out the window and thoughtfully rolling a prickly burdock ball in her palm, spoke in a quiet, broken voice:
"Of course, girls, you must fight for your love. But in life, it’s very hard to distinguish love from infatuation, from the habit of being married, from the fear of being left behind, from the fear of judgment and the desire to avoid ridicule behind your back. A mistake can cost you a lifetime, and often more than one. Moreover, not everyone is gifted with the ability to love and be loved. This gift is born and passed down only in happy families from parents to children. Children model their relationships on those of their parents because they know no other example but their own."
