Her mother sat in the kitchen smoking, when the two of them rushed into the room with the blossoming branches. Her father opened the windows wide. Mia went to look for glasses for the wine and sliced the bread.

“Everything is in bloom outside…,” she said to her mother as she busied herself.

Her mother nodded. She took another puff of her cigarette.

Exhaled. In and out. In and out.

Mia surfaces, loudly gasping for air and, for a short while, takes large breaths. As much as she is able, she draws in the invisible elixir of life and dives under again.

Having happily clinked glasses, Mia drank her wine. She noticed how carelessly her mother raised the glass to her lips. Her glass wobbling, she was spilling the wine. The slice of bread was soaked with wine. Her father winked at Mia and, with a nod in her mother’s direction, he smiled. His eternal child was enjoying her wine and bread.

Mia surfaces, turns on her back and for a while, lightly holding her breath, floats without moving in the water. Her eyes closed.

Her mother wanted to go to bed early. And she wished not to be disturbed. Her sleep always had been fragile. If it was disturbed, it could not be recaptured until daybreak. They had to be quiet in the parlour, make sure not to clatter dishes in the kitchen, had to disconnect the telephone, not let the dog in …

Having tidied up the table, Mia went with her father into the garden to do their evening chores.

Standing at the head of the stairs beside her room, her mother called out to Mia: “Another slice of bread and a glass of wine!”

“But, of course!” Mia responded joyfully.

Mia flips over onto her stomach and, slicing the water with grand strokes, she shoots across the pond. Back and forth. Back and forth. Frightened, the green water dogs fall silent.

Mia placed the plate with the bread and a full glass of wine on the bed among the dog-eared books. As madam wished.

Mia and her father had climbed down into the dug-out cellar in the yard to check out last year’s potatoes, when the bitch started to bark. Mia went to look. God knows why as there was no one there. God knows why she went back into the house. God knows why she decided to quietly open the door and to look, if her mother had been disturbed.

Having shot about the pond, Mia for a moment grabs unto the dock, breathing hard like a long-distance runner.

Her mother was sleeping in an odd position. Her arms thrown over her head. Fighting for air. But her eyes gave away the fact that she was losing consciousness. The wine glass had tipped over on the bed and a large bite had been taken from the slice of bread. On the shelf beside the bed rested a sleeve of sleeping pills. She had taken four of the pills with the wine. Her mother’s daily dose of happiness.