“Don’t catch a cold”, instead of a greeting, Klim flung off to me and went into the house, leaving the hares by the door – as if not dead, but frozen in their last jump. I got out of the eight-degree water, took off my sneakers, and went barefooted on the frozen ground to house, hidden, it seemed, better than sunken ships in the ocean.
Inside, Klim was already sharpening knives, drawing them on a round stone.
“Can you handle meat”? He asked, noticing me at the door.
I nodded my head affirmatively. Klim put one knife in my hand and began to sharpen another, and I, forgetting everything I wanted to ask, trudged out into the street to gut the hare. I put the dead body in a deep bowl and carried it into the water, delaying an unpleasant moment. I looked at him and thought about whether he h
