From the kitchen, the woman went to the hallway. After checking her dress in the mirror there, she quickly ran her fingers through her hair one more time, then opened the door. In the doorway, a young man stood, slightly out of breath after climbing six flight of stairs. In his hands, he held a potted cactus, the size of a soccer ball. He looked to be in his early twenties. Sweat covered his face, and a lock of hairs stuck to his forehead. His gray T-shirt was soaked through, leaving dark spots around his armpits and on his chest. His chinos, loose-fitting, were cut at knee hight. His bony legs ended up in a pair of battered running shoes. He had abnormally large feet. If hard times were to sneak upon him and in the lack of a job, he could have easily tried out for an elite swimming team. With his lean body and those huge flippers of his, he could have even made it to the Olympics. Looking somewhat startled, the young man apologized for being late with the delivery. Then, as if in need to say more, he opened his mouth but, in the next second, quickly swallowed the words and looked behind him. One of the woman's neighbors, an elderly man with a walking stick, was getting down the stairs. Read more…

With her arms crossed over her chest, the woman held the comforter as if trying to shield herself against whoever it was in the dark. Despite the insufficient protection the blanket provided, it actually stopped her from screaming out in fear. A little while later, though, when something grazed her forehead, she almost cried out. The only reason for staying silent was that the touch was soft and came with a scent that surprised and muted her. The smell was of orchids; she was able to identify it right away. Someone was touching her forehead, face, and hands with the velvety petals of the flowers. Read more…

When the woman regained consciousness, the things she noticed first were the hardness of the kitchen floor and its coolness against her bare skin. Her pajama top was open, and one of her breasts had a bright red bite mark on it, but in all likelihood greenish purple by the morning. She covered her breasts and pulled her pajama bottom back up from her knees. If it weren't for the smell of smoke, she wouldn't have moved yet. Out of the utter confusion and despair, she wasn't ready to see the state she was in. The smoke, however, was getting thick, and she forced herself to get up and look around. Read more…

After she had been pulled off the bed, the woman lay supine and in horror on the hardwood floor. Her husband, very unsteady on his feet, stood over her body, feeling smug after his demonstration of spineless dominance. His clothes and breath reeked of smoke and alcohol, and a dense haze of delirium clouded his eyes. He slurred something that the woman couldn't fully understand. Having no idea how to respond, she kept quiet. She didn't dare to even breathe or blink. Like a fish out of water, she just lay there, submissive, on the floor, clearly still in shock from what had just transpired. The old bruise on her back began to ache again, pounding a steady rhythm with her racing heart. She wished—if butterfly she could be no more—to be a fish, hiding from the world deep down in an abyss of eternal darkness. She wanted to be anything but a woman who got less respect from her husband than a homeless, hapless beggar. Read more…

On the balcony, the woman was busy trying to find a place for the orchids. Her vegetables and herbs were in plastic containers in sizes of rather on the large side, leaving not much room for anything else on the floor. So, for the time being, the woman decided to set the orchids on the concrete guard rail, thinking to hang them from a nail tomorrow when there was daylight. Read more…

The small shop was full of flowers every kind, in colors one could have never imagined of existing. Daffodils, tulips, lilies, gladiolas, carnations, orchids, and, of course, most people's favorite, roses were everywhere, on the floors, in fridges, on the walls, and in buckets. There was barely room for the customers to walk around. The flowers' scents filled up your nose with such a freshness that you could easily imagine standing in a meadow somewhere in the Alps, breathing in the essence of the virgin Earth. Read more…

What could be better than snuggling up on a couch and reading a good book at Christmas time? Well, I genuinely believe that there's nothing wrong with that picture. In truth, there have been times when I preferred being alone to giving up my solitude for anybody. However, times have changed, and I have certainly changed with age—for better or for worse, I can't really say. What I can truly say is that if I could, I would spend this holiday season in a more enjoyable setting. Read more…

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I took my shirt off. Jeans, too. I wrung all the water from them into the drain in the middle of Janessa's father's bathroom. He seemed to be a nice man,—quiet, just like Janessa had told me earlier—and my kind of person. I marveled at the impression I must have made on him with my wet clothes as I gave them a final wring and hung them on a loose nail that was sticking out of the wall. I used the towel that Janessa's father had given me to dry myself, then I put the damp clothes back on. A few seconds later, I joined Janessa and her father in the living room. They were sitting on a wooden bench and talking when I entered, and for a good half a minute, they didn't even realize I was there. Read more…

“Come in,” I said. Read more…