Magdalena
How his cropped hair glinted in the light, how perfectly his glasses framed his face, how firm and elegant his posture was.
That evening, she briefly recounted the encounter to Alik, but her husband's mind could barely grasp the concept. "Bring the man to the house," Alik muttered. "We will invite him for dinner and let him explain it properly."
Giddy with a desperate kind of joy, Magdalena pulled from her pocket a torn scrap of paper bearing the boy’s number, she didn't even know his name, and rushed to her neighbor’s house. A telephone was still a rare, alien luxury in their village.