I could use some tea, she thought, running her finger along the windowsill. She touched her forehead to the cool glass. The heat was unbearable. A girl, unsteady on her roller skates, glided along the sidewalk. She did a beautiful slalom between the flowering linden trees lining the street, then bumped into an old woman carrying oranges.
"Phew," Nora snorted contemptuously, brushing dark locks of hair out of her eyes.
A sparrow perched on the windowsill, chirping loudly. But she couldn't hear it, beyond the thick glass. Only the monotonous ticking of the clock reached her ears. "Tick, tick, tick, tick..." it repeated the same, boring, sometimes maddening chatter over and over.
The telephone rang in the hallway. Nora slid lazily down the windowsill. But before she could reach the old telephone resting on a single-legged oak table, the ringing stopped. This fact only made her more nervous. She angrily kicked the brass knob, which had been ripped off the cabinet by some careless householder and now lay helplessly on the fluffy carpet her grandfather had brought back from faraway Turkey long ago. On bright afternoons like this, she hated this large apartment, these furniture, smelling of antiquity, these mementos of her grandparents' lives, these windows overlooking dull, leafy streets. She was irritated by her quiet parents, always busy at work or reading their books, irritated by her ailing grandfather, always sequestered in his room on the ground floor, and by the foolish nurse who came to care for him. At such moments, she longed to bury her face in the thick fur of Amaretto—her beloved, enormous dog.
Nora remembered the tea she had been meaning to make, but she couldn't move. It was so hot... She glanced at the hated clock—the ornate hands were set at five o'clock.
"Tea time," flashed through her mind. The mere memory of the delicate cup with its tiny handle and the puff of steam rising from the sweetish liquid, with real tea leaves floating among the dried fruit, filled her with pleasure. With all her willpower, she managed to overcome the laziness that was taking over her—she got up and headed for the kitchen. Entering this incredibly spacious room, she didn't forget to bow to the African statue of some deity standing just beyond the threshold. As a child, she had always felt awe at the enormous, white eyes that stood out against the statue's black face. To gain its favor, whenever she entered the kitchen, she bowed her head before the mysterious deity. This habit remained with her to this day—though it was more a desire to honor a custom she had created—after all, once you have a custom, you have to maintain it.
Pulling a teapot from the herb-scented shelf, she spotted several bills in white envelopes. They didn't belong in this kitchen at all. They lacked imagination. She placed the kettle on the stove, careful not to burn herself on the hot plate. While waiting for the water to boil, she sat at the mahogany table, staring at the curtain hanging in the window. Individual ears of grain and tree branches were woven into it. A moment later, the kettle whistled through the kitchen. She climbed onto a chair, pulling a container of fruit tea from the shelf. A moment later, she was sitting in the honey-scented living room, scalding her lips with the golden beverage.
The clock struck six. The echo of the six notes continued throughout the apartment for a long moment. Nora thought she actually liked her solitude. She felt happy sitting completely alone between the white walls. She didn't need her mother, her father, her grandfather. She didn't need anyone. No one understood her. Who needed conversation? And so, in the end, she's left alone with her problems. No one wants to help her solve them. No one. Everyone thinks only of themselves. "Hush, Nora. You're a grown-up now. You should be able to take care of yourself. At your age, we solved our own problems. And now, hush. We want to work a little." She'd heard it so many times... One word began to pound through her heat-weary head. Alone... alone... alone! A salty tear rolled down her burning cheek. It stopped on her chin. After a brief moment of reflection, she decided to jump. She heroically bounced off. For a moment, she reveled in her freedom. She floated through the air. It was so beautiful... Finally, her dreams had come true... She was free, free, free! She looked down. Below her stretched a brown, shimmering abyss. The universe? So this was what space looked like... It was beautiful. The gateway to a new world... She couldn't wait to cross it. She sped up. She was getting closer... She smelled a sweet scent. Was this what happiness smelled like? The last millimeters separated her from entering a new universe, a new life... The droplet glanced around one last time before disappearing into the depths of the tea.
Nora looked at the swaying surface of the fruity drink. Perhaps the path chosen by the teardrop was indeed the right one...? She glanced at the hated clock, constantly striking its own rhythm. Tick, tick, tick... For a moment, she felt like following the tiny droplet's example. She wanted to be free from her life, from her problems... After all, no one loved her here... No one needed her... In this perfect world, there was no place for her... She didn't fit in.
She stood before the spacious wardrobe in her cold room. She smelled the distinct scent of wood. Suddenly, the open window slammed loudly. A child's cry echoed across the street. Nora decided to do a quick inventory of her clothes. What exactly would she need most if she decided to take the rash and irresponsible step of running away from home? Definitely some sturdy trousers, a warm sweatshirt, a jacket, and a few summer shirts. The wardrobe was full. There were a dozen or so long, elegant dresses, fashionable scarves, each a different color, perfectly matched to her stylish outfits, several dark skirts, white blouses, two sweaters, and a pair of winter trousers. In the corner of the wardrobe lay her favorite fox. Nothing would fit… She looked in despair in the mirror.
Suddenly, voices echoed in the hallway. It was her family's return. Once again, she was forced to see the tired, dull, sad faces of her parents and grandfather, motionless in his stroller… She closed the wardrobe.
What a life…
Between her parents' legs lay a dog, forgotten by everyone. Forgotten, like me, she thought.
"Amaretto!" she cried, running into the hallway and hugging the dog. He gratefully licked her cheek. For him, and only for him, she had discarded her crazy ideas of sleeping at the station. She would stay here. She would endure. She felt the dog's wet tongue again. She hugged him tighter, tears streaming down her face. She would stay…
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