The Next Chapter
‘I was lying down yesterday,’ Basia said, to herself, or to everyone.
She was sitting at a table in the middle of the Chinese bar. Sometimes a cold wind would blow against one’s legs when the door opened. I was sitting closer to the counter.
‘I was lying and lying there,’ Basia said. ‘I don’t remember if I was doing anything else. You i***t. Marek will pay, I want to be warm. I don’t want to have to pay that girl with the black hair. I don’t want to pay her. Marek will pay. Marek has to pay. I don’t like to touch myself. Nobody likes to touch me. Just don’t move it. Not an inch. Don’t touch it. Don’t pray, don’t listen, don’t pray. Don’t touch it. Because they’ll kill you. Because you’ll die.’
She stared sadly at the glass door, through which people would enter to buy
