In a fit of quarantine homeliness and self-isolated frugality, I decided to collect and store waste coffee cake. Combine business with pleasure, so to speak. Like, I drank coffee and made my own natural “scrub.” I brew this morning joy in a geyser coffee maker, on the aluminum bottom of which you can feel the numbers: ten rubles and fifty-five kopecks - this is the price and the guarantee of my good day. I inherited a uniquely useful device from my husband’s ancestors, for which I absolutely thank them all. There are several advantages of this type of coffee brewing: it’s a large volume, which means it’s enough not only for me, the coffee brews just as long as I take a morning shower and get myself in order, and most importantly, the coffee doesn’t run away, and the sound of indignant gurgling makes it clear that it’s time to finish your water procedures. I drank the coffee, threw the pulp into a glass jar under a screw cap, the jar stands right there, near the sink, surrounded by a company of sponges and towers of bottles of dishwashing detergent. I add up a day, two, three, sometimes I forget... then again I hastily add another portion, running off into the high-speed distance of a busy day. Another dreary-gray and sunless-dull morning, waiting for the whole day at home, which drains my strength, and I, like the hero of the joke “The longer I stay at home, the more homeless I look,” with an absent look I throw another portion into that glass. Suddenly I noticed something foreign in it: thin white threads hiding inside a faceless, gray-brown mass of finely ground grain, processed and passed through boiling water. Then they go through the coffee cake to the top, to the lid, and turn into a timidly pressed against the glass side the jars are gently green sprouts. My first reaction is fear: what is this? What kind of tricks? Illegal entry into my territory, this shouldn’t happen here! The second reaction is curiosity: so what is this?! Has it really been the coffee that has sprouted, or something completely foreign that has entered in an unknown way and taken root? The third reaction is respect and tenderness. Wow, after so many inhuman trials, this something has sprouted and wants to live, reaches out to the light, lives its own life, contrary to laws and rules. And you know what? It gives me hope and keeps me going. Hope that life goes on. This is my personal little timid but strong miracle.