URŠULA
“Lounging in the tub again. I don’t know what it’s all about, but that woman of mine bathes probably three times a day,” sighed Roman Hradílek expertly rotating the glass of beer they had just brought him. He just turned it on the porcelain tray and nodded calmly, as when someone playing mariáš calls out, Colour? Good!
“It’s a bathing complex. Normal for women over thirty. Don’t give it a second thought,” his buddy Wagner reassured him. “My wife used to do the same thing before our divorce.”
They clinked their glasses. The beer settled. The first one always settles like that. The afternoon began to turn to evening: five thirty, six thirty. Three, four and then home. Just in time for the news. They met here four times a week, between five and seven — a little social club of sorts.
