That date was an icebreaker. Afterwards everything went smoothly. They met almost every day at his place or hers and continued their explorations of each other. Each time they met they found yet unconquered or undiscovered territories, or new pleasures in the lands they had already mapped out. A few weeks later Nikolett lost her apartment because it was turned into an Airbnb. They decided to move in together. With their combined incomes, they could get a bigger and nicer apartment than either could afford on their own.

The new flat smelled like fabric softener and plywood. The kitchen window and the tiny balcony looked onto a park from the building’s seventh floor. One Sunday the sun shone with such magical golden intensity through the kitchen window that Zoltán sat down on the floor looking at the honey-colored light and let the feeling wash over him: he was in the right place. After so many years spent wandering, this was finally home.

Nikolett felt likewise. They bought a bottle of Prosecco at Aldi; they drank it on a Thursday night sitting by the open kitchen window, and when they were sufficiently drunk they confessed their love for each other. They both loved the apartment just as much as they loved each other, but neither of them minded that. After that night, whenever they cleaned the floor or washed the kitchen counter they felt they were caressing the body of some great lover.

It was a liberating feeling to be in a relationship; it made everything easier. At dawn, before work, they would often make love; the warmth they generated in these moments helped them through the coldness of the days. They shared the bills, so by the end of the month they managed to save some money. They hadn’t decided yet what to spend it on, but they cherished the idea of savings as if it were some kind of precious seed, from which an unknown, exotic plant would gradually grow. Even when the pandemic started they didn’t feel threatened. They switched to working from home and saved even more money by not having to commute. She sometimes needed to go to the office, but she rode a bike.

‘Is it this easy?’ Zoltán would ask himself from time to time. ‘Is it this easy to be happy?’

It seemed like it was, and he hoped that these days would turn into weeks, months, years, and an eternal life.

He was at the greengrocer’s picking out onions when he first heard the news of the bitten dog. A middle-aged woman was selecting cucumbers. She recounted the news.