she’d been through? Then she realized what he wanted. She quickly removed the bathrobe, having a bit of trouble with the long sleeves. She handed it to him disdainfully and waited for him to open the small door within the large one. She went out, head held high, into the falling dusk.
Once out in the street she was overcome by a twofold sense of relief. Everyone is happy to get out of prison, and all the more so if there is someone there they didn’t expect to see. The tall policewoman was just saying a friendly goodbye to Madam Vera, several steps away from the prison entrance.
As Madam Olga set out after Madam Vera, who was heading down the street, she was suddenly stopped by a barrier in the shape of a nightstick. She looked at the policewoman in bewilderment. Once again no words were exchanged. The policewoman eyed her for several long moments, then reached for her breast pocket, slowly took out a leaflet, and handed it to her. The barrier only went down when Madam Olga took it.
As she quickened her pace to keep up with Madam Vera, she hastened to read the leaflet. She had already experienced enough to know that it was not the same as the one she’d used to enter the prison. She was curious to know what came after “Food” and “Water”.
The new show was entitled “Life”. Madam Olga smiled. It would be quite fitting for the late Madam Vera to play the starring role. This time there was no recommendatory hype. The front of the leaflet bore only that word and the back differed from the previous ones. When she turned the leaflet over, instead of a map there was just a large number eight.
Madam Vera turned right at the fourth street. When Madam Olga reached it, she saw that it was full of little shops, similar to a bazaar. It was a pedestrian zone and quite lively in the evening hours. There was a hubbub all around, and the lanterns that decorated the middle of the street had just been turned on.
Even if Madam Olga had walked with her eyes closed, she would have known which shops they passed. She was struck by the heavy odor of roast meat turning on a vertical spit, the moldy smell of wet books on a table in front of a secondhand bookstore, the exotic spices wafting out of a shop crammed with colorful little boxes, the sour smell of bird droppings from a multitude of chirping cages.
Madam Vera entered probably the only shop on the street with no smell emanating. Madam Olga looked at the shiny old-fashioned weapons and war trappings in the window. There were swords, spears, halberds, double-headed axes, sabers, spiked clubs, three-pronged spears, crossbows, shields with coats of arms, and banners in various shapes and colors.
The shop was barely wider than a hallway, but it was very long. She saw the lean salesman nodding as he listened to Madam Vera. He went to the back of the room, brought back a thin, rectangular, dark wooden box with a glass lid, and placed it in front of his customer. Madam Olga couldn’t tell what was inside.
The customer briefly looked at it and then exchanged a few more words with the salesman as he wrapped the box in brown paper. He bowed to Madam Vera as she took it. Madam Olga did not wait for her to put a little distance between them once she came out. She headed after her straightaway.
They had covered barely fifty meters, one right behind the other, when Madam Vera stopped in front of a man leaning against a wall selling jewelry. Everything he had to offer was in a flat cardboard box at waist height, attached to a leather strap around his neck.
The seller was a short, totally bald man in early middle age. A white cane was attached to the pocket of his long, worn-out army overcoat, and he wore opaque glasses in a round frame. He raised his head a little when Madam Vera started to pick through the cheap pieces of jewelry on display, but didn’t say anything.
He remained silent as she took a little paper bag from the pile on the edge of the box. Madam Olga was quite close now
Once out in the street she was overcome by a twofold sense of relief. Everyone is happy to get out of prison, and all the more so if there is someone there they didn’t expect to see. The tall policewoman was just saying a friendly goodbye to Madam Vera, several steps away from the prison entrance.
As Madam Olga set out after Madam Vera, who was heading down the street, she was suddenly stopped by a barrier in the shape of a nightstick. She looked at the policewoman in bewilderment. Once again no words were exchanged. The policewoman eyed her for several long moments, then reached for her breast pocket, slowly took out a leaflet, and handed it to her. The barrier only went down when Madam Olga took it.
As she quickened her pace to keep up with Madam Vera, she hastened to read the leaflet. She had already experienced enough to know that it was not the same as the one she’d used to enter the prison. She was curious to know what came after “Food” and “Water”.
The new show was entitled “Life”. Madam Olga smiled. It would be quite fitting for the late Madam Vera to play the starring role. This time there was no recommendatory hype. The front of the leaflet bore only that word and the back differed from the previous ones. When she turned the leaflet over, instead of a map there was just a large number eight.
Madam Vera turned right at the fourth street. When Madam Olga reached it, she saw that it was full of little shops, similar to a bazaar. It was a pedestrian zone and quite lively in the evening hours. There was a hubbub all around, and the lanterns that decorated the middle of the street had just been turned on.
Even if Madam Olga had walked with her eyes closed, she would have known which shops they passed. She was struck by the heavy odor of roast meat turning on a vertical spit, the moldy smell of wet books on a table in front of a secondhand bookstore, the exotic spices wafting out of a shop crammed with colorful little boxes, the sour smell of bird droppings from a multitude of chirping cages.
Madam Vera entered probably the only shop on the street with no smell emanating. Madam Olga looked at the shiny old-fashioned weapons and war trappings in the window. There were swords, spears, halberds, double-headed axes, sabers, spiked clubs, three-pronged spears, crossbows, shields with coats of arms, and banners in various shapes and colors.
The shop was barely wider than a hallway, but it was very long. She saw the lean salesman nodding as he listened to Madam Vera. He went to the back of the room, brought back a thin, rectangular, dark wooden box with a glass lid, and placed it in front of his customer. Madam Olga couldn’t tell what was inside.
The customer briefly looked at it and then exchanged a few more words with the salesman as he wrapped the box in brown paper. He bowed to Madam Vera as she took it. Madam Olga did not wait for her to put a little distance between them once she came out. She headed after her straightaway.
They had covered barely fifty meters, one right behind the other, when Madam Vera stopped in front of a man leaning against a wall selling jewelry. Everything he had to offer was in a flat cardboard box at waist height, attached to a leather strap around his neck.
The seller was a short, totally bald man in early middle age. A white cane was attached to the pocket of his long, worn-out army overcoat, and he wore opaque glasses in a round frame. He raised his head a little when Madam Vera started to pick through the cheap pieces of jewelry on display, but didn’t say anything.
He remained silent as she took a little paper bag from the pile on the edge of the box. Madam Olga was quite close now
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