I boarded the tram, rattled along with it, saw the banks of Praga colored in a riot of dark greens and reds. I got to your street, to your house, ran up the stairs to your door. You opened up and we held each other, my face in your neck and your warm breath in my ear like gentle whispering. Your hand caressing my new hair.

“Is she feeling better?” you asked in a whisper.

I nodded, holding on to you tighter. “Thank you,” I said into your neck. I could feel you smiling against my cheek. I had meant to ask you again how you’d managed it, the doctor, the chicken; I’d planned the questions before coming—about Hania too, especially about her. But I couldn’t bring myself to ask. I was too happy to see you, too relieved. Too weary to struggle. I let myself fall on the bed. The cold air gave us goose bumps as we undressed. We found warmth beneath your covers. We tested our strengths, wrestled with the urgency of desire, conjured up heat. Our bodies like firestones. You had me, and I had you. But it didn’t feel like the other times, the first times. It felt like we were settling a score, evening something out. Like we needed this, this language, this code, to know where we were, and who. And that we were both still holding on.

Afterward you got up and switched on the radio, sitting on your haunches, turning the tune button. Your arched back defined, your ass resting on your heels. Your tan had faded, I realized, and so had mine. Finally you found a station, a piano concerto, maybe Mozart. You lit a cigarette and came back to bed, the smoke gently floating, caressing the air. I felt weightless, again like one of the leaflets I had released into the air. I closed my eyes.

“Maybe you were right,” I said, feeling you lie down next to me.

“About what?” You blew out your smoke. It mingled with the air above us.

“About needing to stay calm and finding other ways. I was foolish.”

It felt good to say this, to shed conscience like a coat. If only the lightness would last, like another toke, another exhalation. The piano played joyfully, relentlessly. My eyes remained closed.

“You were scared,” you whispered. “But now you know that there’s no need for that.” Your mouth covered mine. The smoke flowed from you to me, down into my lungs, filling me up, making me feel, for one moment, like I would burst.