Mister Thurlow couldn't help and laugh at his vision. The old women sitting on either side of him shuddered in unison. Jo heard the dissatisfied hiss of some tradeswoman - seems to be the one who sold fruit. But to him, tired from this day culturologist, somehow didn’t care what these uneducated broody thought about him. He didn’t try to restrain this sudden flow of fun that fell on him and laughed until old Martin suddenly turned around and waved his hairy fist right in front of his nose. Non-conflict - and to be honest, cowardly - Jo immediately stopped neighing like a horse, and the driver, muttering rude words to the ill-mannered youth, put his hands on the steering wheel again.

Five minutes later, the bus finally brought the entire mass of people rushing home to their home village, and mister Thurlow, who was lucky enough to stand right at the exit, immediately jumped off the bus, raising clouds of dust. The merchant women following him began to loudly swear after him, but he, being in a cheerful mood - which Martin’s fist still could not completely extinguish - almost flew to his house. Why was Jo having so much fun? Was it really the image of a gorilla rising early in the morning that his mind painted that caused such a paroxysm of ecstasy in him? Mister Thurlow did not understand psychology, so he stopped thinking about his own behavior, and, having moved away to a safe distance from the bus stop, he slowed down slightly.

Be that as it may, fatigue made itself felt. Approaching his home closer and closer, the mischievous spark of fun inside Jo finally went out, and he, with his head down, seemed to force himself to walk. Having reached the fence of old Harris's house, he suddenly stopped rooted to the spot. At first, Jo himself did not understand why this happened. He continued to stare at his feet, but with his whole body he suddenly felt a strange feeling, as if a hundred people were looking at him at the same time. The legs did not obey their owner, and for a couple of seconds Jo could not even move his neck. "What kind of misfortune is this?", he thought.

Time seemed to freeze around mister Thurlow - because for him two seconds passed as slowly as if two millennia. In addition, he felt the heat begin to spread throughout his body, and it seemed that just a little more, and his skin, unable to withstand the high temperature, would begin to melt. But, thank God, this feeling has finally left him. Jo seemed to have woken up from a nightmare. He looked around. The sun has already set and darkness has not yet fallen on the earth. Birds were sitting on a tree on the other side of the road.

With their soothing chatter, Jo was able to shake out this strange disease. He had already decided to go to the gate of his house, but something made him glance at the house of old Harris. The lights had not yet been in the rooms, so the windows that looked out onto the road did not stand out against the general background of the house. Not having strong eyesight, mister Thurlow was about to turn his head back when he suddenly saw a small human figure in the leftmost window of the second floor.

It was a little girl. It was not clear what she was wearing, because from here mister Thurlow could only see her head. She had long and tousled black hair with a small bun on top of her head. The young stranger's face had a hint of some subtle cunning. The child looked directly at Jo with curiosity. What attracted her? Maybe it was his confused look? It seemed to Jo that this was precisely the case, for her lips stretched into a smile. How long did they look at each other like that? Mister Thurlow no longer remembered this. But the piercing gaze of this pair of eyes seemed to drill right through him. He moved awkwardly, still looking out the window. Little girl said something (mister Thurlow could not have heard her words from such a distance) and her head disappeared from the square of the window, in which gray curtains now occupied all the space.

Jo came close to his gate and, catching in his ear the barking of his faithful dog, who was running on the other side of the fence, with shaking hands he pulled out the key and inserted it into the keyhole. He crossed the threshold of the wicket and, shouting at Buffalo, who was joyfully jumping on his owner, locked it behind him. Putting the keys in his pocket, he squatted down and patted the dog's head.

- Well, chum, I suffered today... How are you? - as if addressing a child, he stammered

Buffalo tried to his owner, but Jo got up in time and, wiping his hands on a handkerchief, grabbed an armful of laundry, which he had hung on the clothesline since yesterday, and went into the house. He had thoughts in his head that he, such a bungler, forgot to buy the dog something to eat, but fatigue prevailed over all other feelings, and in the end Jo headed to the bath. There he the tap and, while the bathtub was filling, carefully laid out the dried clothes so that at the end of the washing up they were within easy reach. Then Jo hastily took off all his clothes and, in what the mother gave birth, plopped into his own ocean, which consisted of hot water and soap suds. It seemed to him that all the stress he had experienced that day was draining from his body into the water. While soaking in the bath, he could finally, with a clear conscience, forget about all his worries and become like a carefree seal.

Jo continued to lie in the now cold water, until suddenly a trill of a telephone call was heard from the next room. With some laziness, he began to get out of the bath and, putting on clean clothes, wondered who could call him at such a very late time. After getting dressed, Jo pulled on his favourite slippers and went into the bedroom. Before picked up the phone, which was on the nightstand near the door, Jo noticed that he had forgotten to draw the curtains some days ago.

Scolding himself for his oversight, mister Thurlow raised the phone to his ear. On the other end of the line was Japhet, his close friend and work colleague at the same time. As it turned out, the reason he called was that while leaving work, he accidentally confused the folder with his materials with Jo's folder. The latter, having promised a friend the other day to drop by his house, which was located in the same village, ended the conversation and hung up.

"It didn't work out very well", thought mister Thurlow, staring blankly at the telephone. As he could see, the fruits of his prostration did not bring any benefit, but on the contrary caused inconvenience, not only to Jo himself, but also to the people around him. Heading to the kitchen, he went through the options in his head for what to do with himself, so as not to give his body a reason to relax. He hated sports with every fiber of his soul, about physical labour in the garden he also thought with some anger - since the death of his mother, this tiny piece of land on his plot has become overgrown with weeds - and, taking the eggs out of the refrigerator, Jo came to the conclusion that no matter how much he wanted, he absolutely could not jump above his stupid head.

Lighting the gas, he began to go through the memories of the past day. In the morning, he opened his eyes in that tiny hotel room and, filling his belly with some cheap semi-finished products, went to the office. There he mechanically carried out the actions prescribed by the charter - Jo noticed to himself that he couldn't even really remember what he did at work - after which, having reported to his boss, he headed to the bus stop. Mister Thurlow skipped in the memories that segment associated with the bus trip, and stopped at how he suddenly felt feverish as he approached the house.

So what was it? Could the look of children's eyes really put him, a twenty-four-year-old man, into such a disease? The shape of that little girl's face flashed before his inner vision again. Jo decided to change his train of thought and began to figure out who she could be. Five days ago he saw mister Yonce pay for that house. And now, as you can see, he and his family have already moved in there. Sounds logical, Jo thought. That little girl, as it was not difficult to guess, was the daughter of the new owner of the house. So he was right about his new neighbour having a child.

Jo almost felt a sense of misplaced pride in his "amazing" deductive abilities, but he tensed and suppressed this feeling. Of course, people can't read each other's minds, but mister Thurlow had a gut feeling that human thoughts could penetrate the minds of other people like sound waves, and so he tried his best not to think of ideas that, if spoken out loud, would cause at least a couple of dissatisfied glances in his direction. Jo had no idea why, in his own understanding, thoughts were like a transparent glass storefront that anyone passing by could easily look behind, but he had to live with this since childhood.

Be that as it may, during that bus ride he managed to hit the nail on the head regarding the marital status of his new neighbour. Jo began to wonder what would change from this day in his life. Well, first of all, now when he goes out into the street, will bump into this overweight man either on the road or in the store. Remembering the unkind look mister Yonce had given him five days ago, Jo made it clear to himself that this family would label him a slacker and vagabond. However, absolutely everyone who knows him thinks so, so it’s nothing special - mister Thurlow is no stranger to such attitude from others.

He was more concerned about how he would behave in front of his new neighbour's young heiress. Jo still remembered her look - the feeling of being looked at by a crowd of hundreds of people could not be pleasant. Being a rather shy person by nature, the concentration of attention on his person from other people always plunged Jo into some kind of strange numbness, and in this case, not only is it a child - for some reason, mister Thurlow was always afraid of kids, thinking that they could read the thoughts of adults - also her location so close to his house...

Jo has spent his life avoiding looking other people in the eyes - the human gaze in his understanding is like a strong spotlight that illuminates all the nooks and crannies of his soul. In the case of the daughter of his new neighbour, everything took an even more serious turn. Mister Thurlow could even swear that quite tangible rays emanated from the eyes of that girl... Trying to find a definition of that evening mystery, he stopped at the spears. His imagination pictured long, transparent poles, as if carved from glass, with sharp tips that came from the child’s eyes.

- What kind of nonsense am I saying, - Jo said out loud, - I collided with the eyes of an unfamiliar girl and, pardon me, almost died on the spot. I'm completely went limp!

Suddenly mister Thurlow wanted to kick or just hurt himself, here the action is not important, it’s all about the result - Jo firmly believed that a strong painful shock would bring the desired effect. He looked in front of him - a frying pan, covered with a lid, stood on the stove. Fully aware of his actions, Jo extended his left hand forward and touched the red-hot iron with two fingers. After which, he ran to the bathroom, placing his burned hand under a strong stream of cold water from the tap. He smiled - "Yes, he taught himself a good lesson, however..." The tips of his little and ring fingers were very red and sore. Nothing special, laying some unfortunate fingers on the altar of socialization is a mere trifle.

Mister Thurlow headed into the bedroom, noticing that it was already quite dark. He the light and began looking in the closet for ointment for burns. Having found the treasured jar, he dipped both fingers into it and, screwing on the lid, put the ointment in its rightful place. "For two, maybe three days it will ache a little, but it’s okay", he thought. But he realized to himself that there is no need to faint from the fact that all sorts of youngsters are looking at him. Jo laughed at his own joke and went to dinner.

Jo finished the scrambled eggs quickly, one might say that he didn’t even satisfy his hunger, but, as a doctor he knew once told him, that’s not a bad thing, because when go to bed, it’s better not to eat enough, because stomach won’t be entirely comfortable. Mister Thurlow did not understand what this could be connected with, but why would he argue with a certified follower of the teachings of Aesculapius? Therefore, having ingested this practically dietary dinner, Jo got up from the table and, having rinsed the plate under running water, put it in the kitchen cabinet and slowly trotted into the bedroom, getting ready for bed. He reassured himself that, in essence, a new neighbour was by no means a disaster, on the contrary, new people in surroundings it's always good. Yielding to the embrace of Morpheus, before Jo's inner sight a pair of cunning eyes flashed again...