The Quiet Mother

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And there by the living-room window stood the young woman, looking out into the evening darkness. She was smoking a cigarette and exhaled the smoke leisurely, her outline clear in the dim gleam coming from within the flat. Her hair fell about her shoulders and her thin body filled out her tight dress as she took a sip from a glass she’d placed on the windowsill. Maybe she’d just come home from a party. She looked stately, standing there at the window with her cigarette. Behind her appeared a man of her age, who went to her and took a drink from the glass. Then he put his arms around her, and they kissed.

Most of the people were watching the quiz show that was on telly. In the lower-floor apartment of the house next door, a middle-aged couple was sitting on a couch, watching telly. The man was bald, and wore glasses, a shirt and loosened tie. The woman, whose hair was in a ponytail, sat close beside him and yawned. She got up and went to the kitchen, pottered a bit at the sink and put dishes into cupboards. Suddenly, at the same moment, they both looked up.

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