SILENCE
I tried to stand in the middle of Pushkin Square, but could not find a spot where I wouldn’t have been in anyone’s way. I didn’t want to go into the sweaty guts of the metro to stare at my own reflection in black glass. I just stood and looked at people — millions of them — and felt like a passenger, squeezed in the crowd, while the world moved on.
Maria threw open the door as soon as she heard the steel gnawing of the key on the lock, and hugged me like a long-awaited arrival, with sudden tenderness. I realized I was poised on the verge of some celebration, of which I had been completely unaware — had I forgotten something?
“Is it your birthday today?” I asked.
“No, don’t be silly. Today we’re alone. The neighbors have gone away!”
Maria herded me inside, touched me with happy
