I needed something to remind me that I wasn’t crazy.
That I had seen what I had seen.
Then I drove home.
That night, I arrived before him.
I made dinner.
That was perhaps the strangest thing I had ever done.
Not because I was weak.
Not because I wanted to pretend.
I simply didn’t know what else to do with my hands.
I chopped tomatoes.
Put cheese on a plate.
Heated yesterday’s soup.
Set the table for two.
Then I sat in the kitchen and waited.
10:15 p.m.
11:00.
11:47.
At 12:18, I heard the key turn in the lock.
Georgi entered quietly.
He took off his shoes carefully, as though he didn’t want to wake me.
But I was sitting in the dark kitchen.
When he turned on the light, he jumped.
“Elena? Why are you sitting here in the dark?”
I looked at him.
His shirt was slightly wrinkled.
His hair was messy in a way that had nothing to do with the wind.
And on his collar was the same perfume I had smelled the night before.
Sweet.
Heavy.
Unfamiliar.
“I was waiting for you,” I said.
He gave me an awkward smile.
“I told you I’d be late.”
