UnfinishedThe cries of geese cut through the awkward silence. Teta Katharine seemed not to notice, or perhaps did not hear; she leaned forward in her chair, her eyes focused on the village below, the rooftops disappearing beneath a shroud of fog.
The birds cried again, this time from behind them. Ondřej looked toward the barn. Beyond the branches of an oak, its leaves a burning orange-red, he watched a flock drift apart over the pond.
Though he could barely make them out through the grove of pines, he was certain three geese landed. As he strained to see one glide across the water, Teta Katharine grasped his arm, her small hand curved, wrinkled. “If you wish, we can walk through the woods later,” she said, slowly letting go of him. Her eyes were still sparkling blue, almost dancing as sh
