The day was warm and sunny — perfect, Sima thought, to freshen up her makeshift bedding.
Her “pillows” were just paper sacks filled with sawdust, and the “blanket” was an old carpet with deer woven into the fabric. She tied a rope between trees and hung the carpet carefully, laying the paper sacks atop a red faux-leather bench nearby.
Sima had been living without a home for more than a year. Her goal was to scrape together enough money to replace her stolen documents and return to her homeland — a republic in the south, where remnants of her past life still lingered.
For now, she stayed in a dilapidated forester’s hut.
What once was a dense forest had become a sprawling landfill.
Initially, the stench was mild, but the trash accumulated quickly. Rubble, broken furniture, old clothes, dishes — all dumped without care. That’s how Sima furnished her shack: an abandoned cabinet, a worn pouf, and even a trunk full of discarded clothing.
Supermarket trucks eventually joined the flow, unloading expired goods.
Sima would sort through the waste and sometimes find edible food — vegetables, fruits, frozen items.
Water, however, was hard to come by. She filtered filthy river water using rags and charcoal from the trash.
Firewood was plentiful, and the stove kept her warm. Life blurred into monotonous survival.
Finding a few coins in old clothes was rare, and discovering a wallet was a near-miracle.
One night, a car disturbed the usual quiet.
People often dumped trash under the cover of darkness, but this vehicle was different — large, expensive, SUV-like.
The driver pulled a bulky roll from the trunk and dragged it into a garbage pit. Sima thought maybe it was roofing felt — it would be useful with rain coming. She wished the man would leave quickly so she could retrieve it.
After he drove away, Sima changed into her work gear and headed to the spot.
To her surprise, what she found wasn’t building material but a luxurious, heavy carpet — the kind that once decorated elegant homes.
Thinking it could serve as a mattress, she tried to lift it but struggled. As she tugged it open, a sound stopped her cold: moaning from inside.
Shaken, Sima heard a faint voice — a woman’s — crying out. She unrolled the carpet further and uncovered an older woman, bruised and disoriented.
Helping her up, Sima took her to the hut, gave her tea made from herbs, and introduced herself as Serafima, a former language teacher.
The woman, Maria Filippovna, slowly pieced together what had happened — her son-in-law had tried to get rid of her to seize her inheritance.
Despite her trauma, Maria’s commanding personality resurfaced.
Sima escorted her to the road the next day, but Maria quickly realized how difficult it would be to get help.
She returned to the hut, shivering and in pain. Sima gave her food and comfort, though Maria still grumbled about the hardships.
Then the man — Maria’s son-in-law — returned, searching for her. Sima hid Maria in the cellar, answered the door innocently, and convinced him she’d seen nothing.
When he left, Maria climbed out, furious but grateful to Sima for saving her.
The story doesn’t end here — it continues on the next page.
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