Socks, Sandles and the northwest side of the bedclothes in a heap. She would have liked to go further but didn't want to be so brazen as to go after him on the spot. He was right: she wasn't quite at ease with him, she couldn't relax with him. He was too big, he was big in every sense, his big nose, big feet, big voice – she couldn't feel him for what he was, a man who would get her, who would satisfy her and she wanted to get to know him, but there was something she was missing about him. She felt there was something hidden there, she didn't know what, a wound, a wound and a weakness that bothered her. But then, he was married. Maybe he had someone else, his wife, maybe that's why he was so shy and hard to fathom, but maybe that wasn't it. Maybe she was on her own, so she was looking for another man to satisfy her. She got into her bed and went to sleep thinking about the way he had looked in the afternoon sun, in the little bikini, the way his arms shone, how everything about him glistened in the afternoon sun, but more than that, there was something, but what? But what? They didn't eat together, one evening before the meal he went to wash, the way he had done when they were children and they went swimming. The old people wanted to come, of course they did, but what could they do at their age? and she didn't want them to watch her eating with a man, not now, not yet. She could look up and see them through the kitchen window from the sofa, but it wouldn't have been right to have her sitting next to a man with the old people standing there watching, it wasn't proper. She made herself a salad, her father went to wash, came back and helped her put the salad plates on the table. She didn't like him helping her, she just liked him being there. She ate without looking up, because her parents were sitting there, at the other side of the table, and they were watching her, she knew it and he didn't come to sit down, he just stood at the table and watched her. He didn't eat either. She picked up her cutlery, dropped it, picked it up again and the room seemed to grow darker, more oppressive, she put the cutlery down and went outside, put on a coat, came back inside to the dark kitchen, and put on her jacket and left. She went to the park, on the way there and back, she crossed the bridge and stopped a few metres short of the other side and watched the water, that was all, she didn't see him at all, she didn't see him again, and she didn't come back to eat either, her parents stayed at the other side of the table, eating their meal in silence. But even when she was sitting alone, eating, she couldn't look up, her eyes were closed, she tried to force her thoughts away from him, just concentrate on the meal, think about the meal, that's all that mattered, the food, the meal, they had all put so much effort into it, they had all been waiting for it for so long, but the dinner turned out to be a failure and no one, her parents or her grandmother, could eat it, they couldn't finish it. No one wanted to go back to the table, not her grandmother or her parents, they just stayed there and it was as if there was nothing in their mouths but air, the food stuck to the roof of their mouths and only the air was swallowed. Finally, at the end of the meal, after their mother's tears, her grandmother took the plates off the table and cleared the table, she put them in the cupboard and then washed the plates. The day wasn't finished, and soon the evening would come, they could only wait for it, there was a tablecloth on the table, folded up, folded down and folded up again, and her grandmother dried the plates, they would be there for a few days, for as long as she was there, she wanted to keep them as long as she could, like old photos, old photographs, like old memories, she wanted to preserve them. It was the same in his house, too, and they only sat down to eat when they were certain the woman was asleep, they didn't sit down to eat when the woman was awake, that's how it was, they waited for her to fall asleep, that was the rule, the woman was just one of the children, the children were the others' siblings, it was as if she were a child herself, she was, but their mother couldn't put up with it, it was no longer allowed to talk to her, not even a single word, because she was just a child, she was just a child. When she did fall asleep, they'd eat, and eat, and then there was a knock at the door, they had to go out, to wash their hands, and on their way they'd bump into the children who were watching them from the window, they'd kiss their hands and wash their hands, and then sit down and eat, eat, and then the grandmother would wash the plates, one or two plates, but she would wash them, to make sure that the woman wouldn't wake up, that she could go to sleep in peace. But if she did wake up, her grandmother would come back and fold the tablecloth, tidy up the table. She would tidy up and fold the tablecloth, tidy up the table, tidy up the room, tidy up the room, tidy up the bed, tidy up the bed. They had no money, the children had nothing to do, the adults had nothing to do either, it was better that she left them in peace, and if she didn't leave them in peace, then she would tidy up. She had only seen him, looked at him, for a few moments when he opened the door and came out of the house with the children, she didn't know him at all, he was one of the younger ones, he was small, not even sixteen, and his hair was red, but there was something different about him, he was too tall for one thing, he was already very tall for his age, it was as if he was standing on the steps, as if he wasn't a child at all. When he came to the door he said her name, but she was running by then and didn't hear him. She saw them when they came back, just before they went to bed, he was standing, waiting for her to look, but she didn't know him. She didn't know him. And when they didn't look at her, she started walking, looking, and didn't look up, but only at their feet, they were carrying the fish, and she was looking at their feet. There were only a few steps left until they were beside the trees and there was no one else. He was holding her hand, she hadn't seen him holding her hand, they walked like that and she was thinking, about what she was seeing, what she was thinking, she didn't know what. She was thinking that she would be able to feel his hand, it would be light, he was holding her hand, his hands were small, and they were heavy and light at the same time, and as they went along, she wanted to be able to hold him in her hands, carry him on her back, carry him to the beach. And they went on like that, in the half-light, and it wasn't easy, it wasn't easy, she walked faster than him, he was almost running in the half-light, she held him tight, it wasn't easy, they didn't hear the old woman calling, calling, but she was calling, calling, and they didn't hear. She was carrying him down a street, his little body, she had him in her arms, but he was dead, his legs were moving up and down as he fell, and she knew they were the last steps, the last steps she would take, and they were falling, and they were falling, falling, falling, and the stone and the earth were falling with them, and they fell together, and when the noise stopped and they stopped falling, she put his body down on the stone, she wanted him to lie down on the ground, where he belonged, on the ground, not on a stone, it was as if she'd just brought him out, it was as if he were still in the house, his legs had to be bent, that was the hardest thing, not to bend his legs. She couldn't bend his legs, she didn't have the strength to bend them, they were as hard as stone, so hard that they would break if they were bent, so hard that they were breaking, and her arms were about to break, but they still had to lift him and put him on the stone, they couldn't just throw him down on the ground, he didn't want to be thrown down, she wanted him to be where he belonged, where it was right for him, he was only eight, why had he come here, she wanted to call him back, let him be where he belonged, but her voice wouldn't let her, it was as if it wasn't her voice, as if it was him, as if it was something inside of him that was making her say no, not