I walked to the waterfront, to the broken-down piers. Across the foamy river the skyline of Manhattan was drawn against the sky, a hundred glistening Palaces of Culture assembled next to one another, absorbing the December light. And looking at that light, I thought of Christmas at home, the way we used to spend it. I thought of Granny and Mother and me buying a carp from the man in the street, picking the fattest one from those swimming around in the metal basins standing on the pavement, pointing our gloved fingers at the same one. We would take it home, let the bathwater run, and make it swim in the tub. That was my favorite part. I would give it a name. I would tell it that I’d take it to the Oder and release it. And I’d mean it. But then Christmas Eve would come and I’d be hungry, and Mother would be ready. She’d take it out of the bath like she’d taken me out when I was small, careful not to drop it. Then she would cut its head off. She would slice open the body and scoop out its organs like the seeds of a grape, her hands as red as the devil, blood trickling down her wrists and forearms all the way to her elbows.

*  *  *

The day after I saw Hania, I didn’t return to the Bureau, like the man in the glasses had made me promise. I sat in my room, stared at my watch, and imagined him at his desk, growing agitated. Every minute after that, I expected a knock on the door, militiamen taking me away or a representative from the housing board handing me a notice of eviction. But none of that came. Not the next day, and not the following one either. The week drew to a close without anything unusual happening at all. Except that it began to snow. Snow tumbled from pillow-white clouds all over the city, dancing, giddy flakes, freshly born, covering streets and houses and cars with a sparkling crust, bringing everything to a halt for a moment.

One morning, soon afterward, Pani Kolecka knocked on my door and handed me a big brown envelope. Inside was a passport with a visa.

A couple of weeks later I saw Karolina for the last time. She was waiting for me outside in the snow, a large fur hat on her head, her breath visible in the cold. She smiled when she saw me.

“Why didn’t you go inside?” I asked, nodding toward the door of the bar.

“I wanted to go in with you,” she said, kissing me on the cheek, wrapping her arm around mine.