“What do you mean, why? If this isn’t done, nobody will know what happened here. These are the names of all the people who died. And here are the addresses, the exact time, and where the rockets fell. Someday, somebody will investigate these murders, and then I’ll come in handy. I’ll make a fortune.”

Another explosion outside. The dog drew in its ears, drank dirty water from a bucket by the bed, put its head on Mitya’s knee, and looked faithfully into his dull eyes.

“What are you feeding the dog?” I asked.

“I don’t. She’s clever. She runs out and sorts herself out.”

I turned away in disgust.

“Street dogs eat bodies! Don’t you know that?”

“There’s no need to slander the poor dog. She might save my life yet. When we’re out and the shelling begins, she’s the first one to sniff it and she immediately runs back to the basement. Katerina Ilinishna, tell her! Isn’t she good?”

“Yes, yes, very good,” the old woman nodded. “Good doggie.”

The old woman sat quietly, fingering a piece of bread wrapped in plastic, biting off a crumb from time to time and chewing it at length. Her large round glasses were tilted to one side—her temples were uneven. She offered a kind, confused and toothless smile as I sat down beside her. She kept trying to pat me with her gentle hands. I felt a pang of pity. It occurred to me that I needed to take care of her and not leave the city. Mitya must have been stealing her food.

“Why are you not at home, Katerina Ilyinishna? What block are you in?”

“All the glass is broken, darling, it’s too cold for me there. And it’s scary to be alone. Anyway, I’ll be gone soon. I’ll die and nobody will know,” she muttered quietly. “Where do you live?”

“Up on the fifth floor, third entrance, Katerina Ilyinishna.”

“Oh, my poor dear. You poor dear.”

“Did you see the war, Katerina Ilyinishna? Do you remember the Great Patriotic War?”

“Oh, yes, we’d climb onto the roof and cover ourselves with blankets and watch our planes shooting down the Germans. It was beautiful, so beautiful. And after the war we were brought here by train from Lviv. Mummy, the children. And now what? Where do we run to now? Are we supposed to go back there?”

A crash outside. It was close. She shuddered and clutched my hand. The empty jars on the shelves clinked.

“Katerina Ilyinishna, I’ll bring you some food right now, you must be hungry.”

She nodded.

“Mitya and I ran out of food.”

I patted her shoulder.

“Don’t worry, I’ll bring some down now.”