Granny cleared the table and made Sasha’s bed in a room separated by a thin divider from Grandpa’s couch.
As she made the bed, she remembered Vaskya sleeping in it, her flesh and blood, a small child brought up with great difficulty after the war who had become a tall, thin, prematurely balding youngster who left the family home and returned a grown man in whom only she could still see that small child. But then Vaskya’s life’s blood had stopped flowing, and he ceased to be.
During Vaskya’s first bout with heart trouble, she dreamt of him.
In her dream, Vaskya lay on the bed, and quietly said: “Mummy, it hurts right here, I can’t breathe,” and motioned towards his heart.
She went to see Vaskya right away, suddenly arriving in the city she hadn’t visited in at least ten years, and once
