On the first day, I lose my sense of time, my dignity, and a banker. In exchange, however, I now have two children and a cat. I don’t remember their names, except for the cat, who is called Miss Tinky. I also have a man. He is tall, with short, dark hair and gray eyes. I watch him out of the corner of my eye, as I sit on the very old sofa, pressed against him. He holds me tightly in his arms, and the wounds on my back throb, as if each one has its own individual pulse. On my forehead, I have a cut that stings terribly. Every now and then, I lose my sight or see white flashes. And I just try to keep breathing.
I don’t know if it is really night or if he decided so. The windows are hermetically sealed with metal sheets. He makes the day and the night. Like a God. I try to convince myself that the worst is over, but I suspect that soon we will go to bed together. The children have already put on their pajamas. The boy’s is somewhat small for him, while the girl’s is too large; the sleeves hang from her hands. The children are kneeling on the floor a little further from the sofa, with their palms stretched out towards the wood stove, to soak up whatever warmth it has left.
