That day windows opened everywhere. In every house, small and tall, reaching cirrus clouds, the windowsills were being cleared unswervingly, half-dried plants were being moved aside, and wings were being opened wide. Each person went to their window and looked out, and screamed as loudly as they could, and the buzz of all these screams merged into one, resembling a dog's howl. Although it sounded much less pleasant.
Not to say that it was a scream of pain or misfortune. Everyone was in a rather good mood, and somehow it turned out that the weather was usually quite good that day (though how do you know which is good and which is not; probably, the majority just liked what they saw outside). Perhaps it was just a scream of living.
In addition to screaming, people on the upper floors also shook their fists, threatening someone whose name they did not know, but about whom they were not happy by default. Some of them also considered it important to show displeasure more vividly, and they spat out. And these spits then simply fell down to the ground, but some, with the help of the wind, flew into the faces of those who lived on the lower floors.
They, in turn, took it as normal and just kept screaming as spit dripped down their faces. After all, the scream was mutual, human one. And it's not so important that someone from above took water from their body and sprinkled you. It's a common good. Home is for everyone.
In small houses, people screamed too. At the same time, they liked to look at tall houses and then at their own, small ones. They also turned their heads like this: to a tall house, to their own, to a tall one, to their own. Sometimes their heads began to turn so quickly that it caused their dizziness, and then they simply fell to the floor, and having come to their senses after, rose up, knelt, poked their faces out again, and continued to scream.
And the scream went on and on. If someone got tired and took a break, then another would join. And so on for several hours. A deafening sound, which, the further away from people, the less it was heard. And which, when it ended, left the feeling of some kind of pure silence.
And it seemed everything was getting better. People then closed the windows. They were glad. Some even laughed. Ever so slowly. Next time they open the windows in a year.
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