\u23f1 ~4 min reading<\/p>\n\n\n
Luka had a neighbor, Mr. Stepan, from the third apartment on the same floor. Mr. Stepan was not very old, but already with gray hair on his temples. He had a son who lived somewhere far away, and when his son came to visit, they played football on the playground near the house.<\/p>\n\n
When his son didn't come, Mr. Stepan had the ball lying in the hallway.<\/p>\n\n
On Saturday, Luke knocked:<\/p>\n\n
\u2014 Mr. Stepan, can I borrow a ball for the weekend? The boys and I are going to play.<\/p>\n\n
Mr. Stepan smiled:<\/p>\n\n
"Take it, Luka. Just return it on Sunday evening - your son will arrive on Monday.".<\/p>\n\n
"I'll give it back! I promise.".<\/p>\n\n
The ball was beautiful. Dark white, with black hexagons, with a subtle smell of new leather\u2014more precisely, synthetic, but pleasant. Luka held it with both hands, like a treasure.<\/p>\n\n
The boys played all Saturday. Luka shot from the left - he was practicing to do it better. Nazar stood on the goal - two backpacks placed like posts. Sashko was the striker.<\/p>\n\n
At one point, Luka hit hard. The ball flew through the net, over the fence, and ended up in the yard of a neighboring house, where an old plum tree with sharp branches grew.<\/p>\n\n
Luka jumped over the fence. He found the ball under the plum tree. The branch caught the barrel - the ball left a small scratch, barely noticeable. And also - the ball seemed to puff up a little slower when you pushed it.<\/p>\n\n
Luka sniffed it. He touched it. The ball was definitely not as elastic as it was in the morning.<\/p>\n\n
The guys finished the game. Luka came home with the ball under his arm. He put it in the hallway. He looked again - he was definitely giving in. Not much. Maybe if Mr. Stepan hadn't noticed - it wouldn't be a big deal.<\/p>\n\n
\u00ab"What if he notices?"\u00bb<\/p>\n\n
Luka was sitting in a chair. He was looking at the ball. He was squeezing it lightly - just right. Compared to what he was doing in the morning... he was swollen.<\/p>\n\n
\u00ab"You can return it as is. Simple. I'll say: here, I'll return it. Mr. Stepan may not notice. And if he does, I'll say: I didn't know, you bastard."\u00bb<\/p>\n\n
Luka thought, thought. He imagined Mr. Stepan. He imagined his son - when he arrives, he will grab the ball, feel it - but there is no ball. Not the same one that was there in the morning.<\/p>\n\n
Luka got up and went to his dad.<\/p>\n\n
"Dad. Do we have a pump?"<\/p>\n\n
\u2014 What pump?<\/p>\n\n
\u2014 Who throws balls. Our Mr. Stepan's.<\/p>\n\n
Dad looked at his son. He nodded.<\/p>\n\n
\u2014 Yes. In the closet. The one for the bicycle, with a thin needle for balls. And what?<\/p>\n\n
"I deflated the ball a little. Because of a branch. I want to pump it up like it was.".<\/p>\n\n
Dad didn't say anything extra. He just went into the closet, got out a pump\u2014an old one, but it worked. He showed me how to insert the needle\u2014where there's a tiny hole with a rubber band. How to push.<\/p>\n\n
Luka was pumping. He was sitting in the kitchen, on a stool, holding the ball with his knees. Dad was sitting next to him, drinking coffee and reading something on his phone \u2014 silently, without comment.<\/p>\n\n
Luka checked the elasticity. He pressed. He pumped more.<\/p>\n\n
When the ball was exactly as it had been in the morning\u2014hard, springy, with a good bounce off the floor\u2014Luka stopped. He wiped the place where the scratch had been with a rag\u2014the sleeve of his T-shirt. The scratch itself remained\u2014a small one\u2014but the ball was the same ball.<\/p>\n\n
On Sunday evening, Luka knocked on Mr. Stepan's door. He took the ball in his hands. On the threshold he said:<\/p>\n\n
\u2014 Mr. Stepan. I'll return the ball. Only there's a scratch on it - a branch on a plum. And it's a little swollen, I pumped it up. Check it, please.<\/p>\n\n
Mr. Stepan took the ball. Tossed it. Pressed it. Looked at the scratch. Then at Luka.<\/p>\n\n
"It's okay, son. The ball is alive. A scratch is nothing, it already has many of those.".<\/p>\n\n
"I just wanted you to know.".<\/p>\n\n
Mr. Stepan smiled. It's warm, the way older people smile when younger people surprise them a little.<\/p>\n\n
"You know, Luka, I'm glad you said it. I probably wouldn't have noticed. But you said it. It's important.".<\/p>\n\n
\u2014 As it was, so I return.<\/p>\n\n
Luka went home. The entrance smelled of damp plaster - renovations on the fourth floor. Luka felt warm in his chest. Because he returned the borrowed thing not only intact, but also honestly. A ball is a ball. And a word is a word. Both must be protected.<\/p>\n\n\n
\ud83d\udca1 Return what you borrow in the same condition.<\/p>\n\n<\/div>\n
Luka borrowed a ball from his neighbor for the weekend. The ball got a little swollen, and Luka decided not to just return it.<\/p>","protected":false},"featured_media":3177,"template":"","meta":{"_acf_changed":false,"yasr_overall_rating":0,"yasr_post_is_review":"","yasr_auto_insert_disabled":"","yasr_review_type":"","rank_math_description":"","rank_math_title":"","rank_math_focus_keyword":""},"class_list":["post-2179","istoriya","type-istoriya","status-publish","has-post-thumbnail","hentry"],"acf":[],"yasr_visitor_votes":{"stars_attributes":{"read_only":false,"span_bottom":false},"number_of_votes":0,"sum_votes":0},"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.kazkaland.com\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/istoriya\/2179","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.kazkaland.com\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/istoriya"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.kazkaland.com\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/istoriya"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.kazkaland.com\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/3177"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.kazkaland.com\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=2179"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}