Yuri Olesha. Envy (№ 194527)

I'm twenty-seven years.
Changing the shirt, I saw myself in the mirror and suddenly like got a striking resemblance to his father. In fact, such similarities are not. I remembered: the parental bedroom, and I, boy, look at changing a shirt father. I felt sorry for him. He can not be handsome, famous, he is ready, finished, more nothing else, except that he is, he can't be. So I thought, pitying him, and quietly proud of their superiority. And now I found out a father. It was the similarity of the forms, no, something else: I'd say sexual similarity: how would the seed of father I suddenly felt in himself, in its substance. And as someone said to me, you're ready. Finished. Nothing else will. To give birth to a son.
I will neither beautiful nor famous. I come from a small town to the capital. I'm not a commander or a Commissar, or a scientist, nor a runner, nor an adventurer. I dreamed all my life about the extraordinary love.