The Next Chapter
You can’t talk with Baśka. Sometimes she’ll say a couple of words or so, for example: ‘I had it here.’ The end. Then she says nothing more. She just sits there and drinks the beer I bought her. And repeats over and over that Marek will pay.
I prefer gabbing with you. I’ll tell you something else.
As soon as I was born, I died. The doctor handed over my little dead body to my father. My father put me in a cardboard suitcase, then he went to a pub, had some beer, ate his full, and returned home by train. There, he set the suitcase down on the couch in a dark room and went off to feed the dogs. Then I started to move. My Dad opened the suitcase, and was very happy. He informed my auntie, my uncle, my Gramma. Altogether everybody was very happy I was alive.
Count Marek
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