Katia
Today, when I opened the door to the house, it no longer smelled like her. Everything had changed. I walked to the backyard and lit a cigarette. A strange feeling tormented me from within—doubts that had turned into certainty. I finally knew it was inevitable.
It was a year ago, on December 10th, when my mother felt dizzy. A strange fear consumed me.
Damn you, Katia. You wretched nurse.
My hands trembled, my heart pounded rapidly, and until the ambulance arrived, I could barely comprehend what was happening.
She had collapsed on the ground, foam at her mouth, deep hollows beneath her eyes.
When the doctor announced her incurable illness, an unfamiliar sensation washed over me.
Ah… this cigarette burns my lungs. Its smoke has a strange scent.
That same cursed feeling returned today.
It was January when I first met Florensky. As I climbed the stairs to his apartment, I encountered peculiar people—people who lived in dreams. A woman was laughing—an incessant, grating laughter that gave me a headache.
At the end of the hallway was a brown door. The wooden floor creaked under my steps, filling the air with eerie sounds. I entered the room cautiously.
Florensky was sitting on a chair, his head shaved, reading a newspaper. He had large hands.
He glanced at me from the corner of his eye, then reached into his tattered wool coat. He pulled out a package and, smirking with his green eyes gleaming, tossed it toward me.
I caught it firmly, stared briefly at his furrowed, curled eyebrows, then left the room.
A year has passed, and I meet Florensky a few times every week now. I’m no longer afraid of him. My fear now is that when my cigarette smells of nothing but plain tobacco, I can't focus my thoughts.
I felt sorry for her—she was a quiet, harmless girl.
I brought Katia back home from Florensky’s staircase, where she lay dying.
My mother was lying on her bed, her oxygen mask fogging up. With each breath, the mist disappeared, replaced by my growing solitude.
Her dark eyes glistened, and from afar, she smiled at me. The farewell lullaby she had whispered in my ear years ago played in my mind once more.
Even when she ran her hand over my head and poured me coffee…
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