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.

I wanted to thank you, but I couldn’t.

“I was worried about you,” you said. “You seemed so upset yesterday. I waited for you at the pool last night. And with the demonstrations escalating . . . Did you hear?”

“I’m fine,” I said, managing to keep a steady face, watching yours relax.

You pulled out a packet from the net bag and handed it to me. It was large and heavy. “Chicken,” you said. “So you can make her broth.”

You knelt down to slip your shoes back on.

“How did you get all this?”

You straightened up, your face right in front of mine. “I told you, there are ways.”

“How?”