So, Martha got the box with her black veil from her wardrobe.

She didn’t get it right away though. She was standing and staring at it for quite a while.

She was looking at it with defiance and anger, with her arms crossed on her chest in a belligerent manner. And being on the edge of flying into a rage, she sighed heavily, as if exhaling the inevitability. Then, in one second, she smiled peacefully, and on her tiptoes, she got the box off the shelf.

She had complicated feelings towards the veil. It was like meeting an old acquaintance. First, you feel the warmest and most tender emotions, the sincere joy, and a few minutes later you realize that you have actually nothing to talk about, and it’s kind of awkward, and you want to get rid of it as soon as possible. After all, it’s just a weird past. However, after a glass of wine with which you tried to smooth out this awkward situation, you start to remember that you were not bored with each other in the past, and then another glass of wine is ordered. And when a completely drunken pseudo-nostalgia seems to be the biggest loss in life, the last thought will slip in as the last warning: that it was indeed a weird past.

But oh well; too late now and you have to face the music.

Having such dialogues with herself, Martha slowly wandered around the house, touching, quite uncertainly and tenderly, everything she wanted to part with. She carefully pressed the box to her chest with her wing (which she had, as we remember, instead of her left hand.)

– One might think – she was indignant – that everything new is necessarily good!

As if this just couldn’t be another tasting of the newfangled cuisine. You try it, you don’t like it, so you get out and go to your favorite restaurant.

Martha trudged to the living room, sank into The Blue Tiger’s favorite armchair, and began stroking the velvety armrest with her fingers while holding the box with the black veil close to her chest.

– Well, and what should I do with my theory of constant ascent? – she sarcastically objected herself, – What about my scientific work on everlasting joy where one of the fundamental principles is that every new step is an improved version of the previous one? Where there is only a thorough analysis of what has been done should immediately, right this second, be thrown away, and one greedily moves towards the newness.

Martha was about to mock herself but immediately thought, muttering that without being prepared, the scandal is not bound to be. She stroked the armchair one last time and continued to wander around the house. She hadn’t yet decided whether she wanted to wait for The Blue Tiger to say goodbye or it would be noble to disappear quietly.

Having reached the steps of the second floor, Martha heard the sound of the door lock opening, and she turned around, frozen just on the first stair.

“Hello,” she exclaimed happily as soon as The Blue Tiger entered the house.

“Hey, there.”

The Blue Tiger didn’t expect to see her right this second, but on the whole, he looked absolutely calm. He closed the door behind him and stared at her. Leaning against the doorframe, he put his paws in the pockets of his beige trench coat.

“It’s wonderful that you came,” Martha was very cheerful, “now I don’t have to decide how to run away. There is only one option now.”

“Glad to help you,” The Blue Tiger smiled kindly but looked slyly. “I see you’ve got your wedding attribute. It suited you quite well when we’d just met.”

“You know, it’s exactly the reason why I’m still lingering here. I can’t make up my mind whether I need it,” Martha sounded tired, “I’ve been so unstable lately, you know.”

“I know,” The Blue Tiger’s voice was still calm, but his tail gave him away. The cat’s resentment forcefully rushed behind him, pieces of the broken chain tinkling.

“Oh,” Martha was a bit embarrassed, “Have you noticed I ripped the chain? This night.”

“You could have just unfastened the safety pin, couldn’t you? Why rupture it?” Ignoring her question, The Blue Tiger asked his own one.

“Well, of course, for pure aesthetics. Such a beautiful piece,” Martha looked at silvery reflections on her wing.  “And most likely, it cost you a fortune too.”

The Blue Tiger ignored this remark as well.

“And what now? Going to get married again?” and still with the coat on, he came close to Martha and took hold of the edge of her chain.

“Oh, well, I was planning it,” Martha sighed and, exhausted, sat down on the stair, “but this strange feeling that you instilled in me got everything confused in my head. I felt completely at a loss.”

“What feeling?”

“This one of yours – the silly one. The feeling of feelings.”

“And how does it manifest itself?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Martha was angry with the Blue Tiger now. “Not only I can’t escape properly, but I also left your trinkets on me,” and she just pulled the chain out of The Blue Tiger’s paw.

“Well, my dear, you have always wanted to attract more attention. Never mind that wing instead of your left arm, now on the top of it, you have a broken chain on this wing and you are very close to your aspirations, in my opinion.”

“Only it seems to me that no one is going to marry me with such a dowry.” Martha smiled with sadness.

“But you’ll take your black wedding veil with you, won’t you?”

“I think, I might.”

“And what about the feeling?” Now The Blue Tiger laughed at Martha rather arrogantly, enjoying his superiority or it might have been his defensive position.

“Oh, it has to be cured,” she sighed

“Such a strong contagion?”

“More so. The symptoms have already reached the level of fantasies.” Martha began to sound more and more ambitious. “Imagine yourself, those are the fantasies of the future, and these are the scariest ones.”

“So, you got frightened. That’s the point.”

“That’s exactly what I’m talking about.” She nervously flapped her wing, almost hitting The Blue Tiger on the nose with the silver chain links.

“Well,” The Blue Tiger sat beside Martha, “this is an odd feeling indeed.”

“You can feel it too?” Martha stared at The Blue Tiger.

With an almost pleading look.

“What can I say, my little girl,” The Blue Tiger embraced Martha. “Those are human feelings, and I am a tiger. Besides, I am flabbergasted that you were capable of such human reactions. I thought your heart is too pricked by the feathers of this wing.”

“Well,” Martha hesitated for a short while, took out the veil from the box and, coquettishly pinned the thin lace to the hair. “I think it’s time I left.”

“Goodbye, Martha.” The Blue Tiger kissed Martha on the temple, and started ascending the stairs while taking off his beige trench coat. “Please, don’t forget to leave a note with your preferences for breakfast.”