Today, around 11 a.m., Clara returned home after a 4-month work trip.
"Don't say anything about before," he murmured.
My mother dropped the spoon.
The sound against the plate was small, but in that room it seemed to split the air. Aunt Nadiya put a hand to her chest and sank into her chair, trembling, while Petro repeated no, that story shouldn't be repeated, that too much time had passed.
And then, from the phone, the voice asked:
—Oksana… are you talking about the same man who appeared in that old report?
My father stopped rubbing his knuckles.
