I heard Pani Kolecka coughing. I got up to check on her, the remains of sleep diffused by anxiety. There was no blood on her or on the sheets. I went to the kitchen and prepared her tea, wondering what I’d make her to eat, wondering whether I’d try the doctor’s office again. Wondering whether it was even safe for me to go out onto the street. Whether the police wouldn’t somehow come looking for me, or whether I was being paranoid. And then, as I served Pani Kolecka the tea, the doorbell rang. The ringing was shrill like a cry.

Pani Kolecka looked at me. We never had anyone over, except for a neighbor who came every Friday to knit with Pani Kolecka. But it wasn’t Friday.

“Pan Ludwik, are you expecting visitors?”

I shook my head, listening for movement.

The doorbell rang again, with more urgency.

“Won’t you see who it is?” she asked.

I walked down the corridor toward the door, my knees weak. I closed my eyes. My heart was beating hard, reminding me of the previous night’s narrow escape, of the small closet, the policemen standing inches away from me. I made myself open my eyes, look through the peephole. In the globular glass your face was large and round like a moon, your body tiny underneath it, attached to you like a stalk to a flower. I felt relief rush through me. I opened the door. We looked at each other for a long moment, without saying anything.

“I brought you something.” You pointed at the shopping net in your hand. I beckoned you inside. In the corridor you took off your shoes. It struck me how strange it was to have you there, how small you made the place look. I introduced you to Pani Kolecka. Her face lit up in a way I hadn’t seen in weeks.

“So you’re the nice pan who Ludwik went traveling with this summer?”

You nodded, the perfect son-in-law.

“Would you like some tea?” she asked, looking at you in adoration, when a fit of coughing took hold of her.

“No, thank you,” you said, waiting for her to stop. “I won’t trouble you for long. Ludwik told me you haven’t been well. I managed to get you a doctor’s appointment. Tomorrow at ten.” You handed her a card.

She looked at it, squinting, reaching for her glasses. “But, Pan Janusz, this is a private doctor,” she muttered, looking concerned. “I don’t think I can—”

“He won’t accept payment,” you said. “Don’t worry.”

She considered you for a moment, very seriously. “Pan Janusz, how can I accept this?”

“It’s nothing. A favor being returned, that’s all.” You glanced at me for a moment.

Pani Kolecka’s face broke into an involuntary smile. “I don’t know how to thank you. Please, stay for lunch.”

“Thank you, but I have to go, and you need to rest. Another time. When you feel better.” You got up and shook her hand and came through to the corridor with me.