The stifling stench of burning burst into the coffee shop with my guest. I put a cup of black coffee without sugar in front of her. Next to it, I placed a plate of cherries, black with sweetness. There was so much summer sun in them that the skin of some of the berries had wrinkled from the heat…

  “I did everything right…”

  My guest's first words. The phrase sounded so awkward and questioning, as if she doubted her own words and asked for my approval.

  I don't judge my guests. I silently added hot milk and a pinch of salt to her coffee. The guest relaxed and smiled timidly, reaching out her trembling, cold fingers to the cup.

  "I made this drink only once. And even then, I overdid it with salt. But I really liked it... And He called me strange... for the umpteenth time.

  We met at the dawn of my youth. He charmed me from the very first meeting. He had such delightful eyes. Light brown, like tart sweet tea, with green and gold flecks. When he was very pleased with something, his eyes turned completely green. I was drowning in their depths.

  And his voice… amazingly deep, captivating, with a hint of hoarseness. When he played the guitar, I forgot to breathe. And his hands, his long, gentle, musical fingers...”

  The guest unconsciously lowered her hand to her belt and touched a dark, heavy pouch hanging on a thick cord. A dreamy smile froze on her lips, and her eyes clouded with the sweet haze of romantic memories. She was still madly in love.

  “I put so much effort into pleasing Him. For Him to choose me, to be only with me. I was ready for everything.

  And He... He always loved freedom. He always had something to do, He didn't seek my company. And I so wanted to be a part of His life...

  I succeeded, at least I did everything I could. I created the maximum I could afford. I found a job, rented a place to live, then switched to remote work and didn’t even think about working in an office, so that I could spend as much time as possible at home. Waiting for Him.

  He started visiting once every couple of days. Then he spent the night more and more often. After three years, he gradually moved his things to me. And then we moved in together.

  I won't say that everything was cloudless and magical, but the arguments quickly died down when we were in bed. I understood that I was too explosive and flighty, and He was older and more experienced. I needed to learn a lot from Him.

  I tried very hard and did everything to get His approval. I got used to everyday life quite quickly, though not without reproaches — but as for... conversations...

  He loved to put everything on the shelves, analyze and look for reasons. For me it was boring and tiring, but I tried to listen and even adopted some useful habits... or rather, I had tried... until one moment...

  I once confessed my love to Him. And I said that I still couldn't believe that I had succeeded, that He had chosen me. That I had done everything to make it so. I had built a golden cage for Him, like for a magic bird.

  Yes, it was a bad comparison. But I was not very good at expressing my feelings. It was difficult for me, and I thought it unnecessary. I believed that it was better to prove your intentions with actions, rather than to engage in empty talk. But it was so important for Him to talk, so important to penetrate into the very depths of the soul.

  He exploded then. He was deeply offended that I had called Him a bird in His cage. He said that He was always free and acted only as He considered necessary and right for Himself. And if we were to compare Him to a bird, then He could be called an immortal phoenix. He did not accept a cage and was always reborn free and independent.

  I begged for forgiveness for a long time, and in response I received a contemptuous, icy silence. After that quarrel, something had cracked between us. He began accusing me of treachery, suspecting me of everything, making remarks at the slightest occasion. For example, if I set the table for dinner too early and He wanted to take a shower first, everything would cool down.

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  I tried to adapt. I did everything to win His forgiveness. Some complaints were quickly resolved — for example, I stopped cooking certain dishes… or making certain drinks…??

  The guest tenderly embraced the cup with her palms and took a big sip. Her gentle smile showed how much she missed the taste of salty coffee.

  "Other demands caused me to protest strongly and often led to quarrels. He said that my friends had a bad influence on me. How could that be? I was renting a place from one of my friends while she lived in another country. We had known each other since elementary school. She was like a sister to me; our parents were friends.

  Speaking of parents… I started visiting my mother less often. He said that my mother was too loud and active, that she put her own interests first and was too pushy in some matters. He was probably right. So what if I visited her not every week, but a couple of times a month… or a couple of times a year…

  One day, my free phoenix said that I was being too provocative on the street. My smile was too wide. And anyway — why did I smile at strangers in a store or on the street? Or were they not strangers? Yes, accusations of cheating followed. First with fictional characters, then with real people — with his best friend…

  I didn't understand how to behave. I didn't understand what I was guilty of. But I needed Him to love me so much. I needed Him! Always!

  I noticed that I had started looking at the ground in the street; I became afraid to look people in the eye. And my gait changed — no more head held high, no more straight posture. I once saw my full-length reflection in a shop window… I was taking quick, furtive steps, as if I were about to break into a run to escape the scene of the crime. As if I were really guilty of something.

  But it was absolutely not so! I was not guilty of anything! I had never done anything bad to Him! I had never betrayed Him!"

  The guest's voice was tinged with steel and tears. The smell of burning in the coffee shop grew even stronger. I silently poured hot coffee into her cup.

  "I could sit at home all day and night just so as not to give him a reason. But it didn't help. He said that people came to see me when He was not at home. How could I prove otherwise? I suggested that He install cameras; He called me strange...

  It must have been a strange proposal, but I didn’t know how else to prove that I was not guilty...

  All my arguments were laughed at and crumbled to dust. He was always one step ahead in his plans, predictions and assumptions. Even when those assumptions went beyond the bounds of reason…

  But I still couldn't give Him up. He became the meaning of my life. My eternal sun. My phoenix, for whose sake I was ready to destroy entire worlds. I had already destroyed mine and laid it at His feet. He trampled the rubble with disgust and demanded more...

  I didn't understand. He loved long evening conversations that ended well after midnight. He didn't care that I had to get up early for work. It was more important for Him to get to the bottom of things. He said that I looked like a cactus, that I shouldn't hide from Him. He was the closest and dearest person — how could there be secrets from Him?

  I trusted Him. And I told Him... I felt so disgusted and hurt. There was something buried in the very depths of my soul. I had learned to live with it long ago, but He demanded I show it. And He bombarded me with a million clarifying questions, as if He were trying to catch me in a lie again... and in another quarrel He presented what He had heard as an accusation...

  It felt like a stab in the back. From the man for whom I would have done anything. Something in me finally broke in that moment… that quarrel ended just a step before the jump... He pulled me back from the balcony and struck me. Out of panic. He probably didn't expect to hit so true and so deep — so deep that afterward I no longer wanted to… didn't want to stay… in such a cruel world…"

  The guest sobbed loudly and quickly took a sip of coffee — a clumsy, awkward attempt to hide her emotions. She was still afraid to show her feelings, and still ashamed. It was awkward because, in spite of everything, no one judged her anymore…

  "Our quarrels became more frequent. They no longer required even a visible reason. Even a random phrase from a film or song was enough to start a conversation that would turn into accusations.

  I tried different ways. At first I answered with shouting and scandals, smashing dishes. Then I closed myself off and ignored Him. I kept silent and turned away, but that was even worse — my silence only confirmed my guilt. He did not stop until he got at least some kind of answer... and a new circle of nightmare...

  And every time the phrase — the slap in the face — “Are you happy now that you have a bird in a cage?”… I have cursed myself a thousand times for that comparison… I didn't mean it that way… I was confessing my love then…

  I freed my phoenix...

  I burned it…”

  The guest put down her empty cup and raised her head for the first time. She had very beautiful eyes — dark, like a fabulous oriental night, like hot coffee… at the bottom of which someone had spilled madness… and paid for it…

  “I can’t wait for Him to rise from the ashes. I can’t imagine how He will become even better than He is now, because He is perfect!”\

  The guest rose from the table, still stroking the pouch on her belt. Weightless particles of ash swirled around her fingers. Greasy traces of soot remained on the empty coffee cup on the table…

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