9
I wake up. Morning. The phone is over-exerting itself. It’s Auntie Manya, Beta’s auntie. The funeral is the day after tomorrow. Did I know my passport is lying on the piano in Beta’s flat?
No, I didn’t know. I don’t want to know. But Auntie Manya insists. She’s an accountant, goes by the book: a person should always carry their documents, the sun should always rise in the East, you must pay for your tram fare. If she ever forgets to pay and gets caught, well, she would probably lose her marbles. Beta was different, thank God. Was… And suddenly nothing makes any sense anymore…
Auntie Manya doesn’t let up: we should go to Beta’s flat today so I can pick up my passport. At least they haven’t sealed off the flat: Beta’s grandmother is the registered tenant although she lives with Auntie M
