Only now did he realize that he had nothing to talk about. Embarrassed, hastily improvising, he remarked:

—I heard you say just now that it’s as cold on this tram as off it. I was thinking the same thing. It is very cold.

He blushed at the inanity of his comments, bitterly regretting not having thought this conversation through. Looking at Leo’s coat, she commented:

—Cold? Even though you have such a nice coat?

Leo’s status as an agent provided him access to a range of fine jackets, hand-crafted boots, thick fur hats. The coat was tantamount to a declaration of his status. Not wishing to admit he worked for the secret police, he decided on a lie.

—It was a gift from my father. I don’t know where he bought it.

Leo changed the topic of conversation.

—I see you around a lot. I wonder if we live close to each other.

—That seems likely.

Leo puzzled over the response. Evidently Lena was reluctant to tell him where she lived. Such caution was not uncommon. He shouldn’t take it personally. He understood it better than anyone. In fact, it appealed to him. She was shrewd and that was part of her appeal.

His eyes came to rest on her bag, filled with books, notebooks – school exercise books. Trying to strike a pose of easy familiarity, he reached out, taking one of the books.

—You’re a teacher?

Leo glanced at the information on the written on the front. Lena seemed to straighten slightly.

—That’s right.

—What do you teach?

Lena’s voice had become fragile.

—I teach…

She lost her train of thought, touching her forehead.

—I teach politics. Sorry, I’m very tired.

There was no ambiguity. She wanted him to leave her alone. She was straining against her desire to remain polite. He returned the book.

—I apologize. I’m disturbing you.

Leo stood up, feeling unsteady, as if the tramcar were travelling across a stormy ocean. He walked back to his seat grabbing the bar for support. Humiliation had replaced the blood in his veins, the sensation pumped around his body – every part of his skin burning. After several minutes of being seated, jaw locked, staring out the window, her soft rejection ringing through his head, he noticed that his hands were clenched so tight there was a series of curved fingernail impressions embedded in his palms.

Moscow

Lubyanka Square - The Lubyanka, Headquarters

of the Secret Police - Next Day