“Hi, Christina dear, up early?”
“Yeah, I’m just out for bread.”
The neighbor smiled and adjusted her scarf. Christina headed to the nearest “Pyaterochka,” conveniently just about a five-minute walk away. After making her purchases, she filled an entire bag: bread, cheese, yogurts, fruits, a couple of cans of canned peas (just in case she wanted to make a salad). As she made her way to the checkout, she estimated that she should be out of the store in about 20 minutes. And indeed, she ended up in a short queue, but she quickly paid.
Finally, she left the store and strolled back along the cozy courtyard path. Her heart was light, for it was a day off—a day to take care of household chores at her leisure.
However, as she approached her apartment building, she noticed something strange: in the entrance, where a glass porch led in, a woman was jostling with a child in her arms, and a little further on a man was arguing with someone on the phone. Christina walked past them—these people were strangers to her, perhaps guests of someone.
She was about to step into the entrance when suddenly she heard a muffled groan or cry echoing from somewhere down the stairs. A child’s cry? She stopped and listened. The cry was barely audible, at a low tone, as if very faint. Her heart skipped a beat: “Could someone have dropped a baby?” She took a few steps inside, leaning against the cool wall.
