The woman holds her breath, and presses the wound. The man still doesn’t respond. She presses harder. No protest. Not in the eyes, or the breath. “Doesn’t it even hurt?” She rolls the man onto his back again, and leans over him so she can look into his eyes. “You don’t suffer! You’ve never suffered, never! I’ve never heard of a man surviving a bullet in the neck! You’re not even bleeding, there’s no pus, no pain, no suffering! It’s a miracle! your mother used to say… Some bloody miracle!” She stands up. “Even injured, you’ve been spared suffering.” Her voice rasps in her tightening throat. “And it’s me who suffers! Me who cries!” Having said it, she moves to the door. Tears and fury in her eyes, she disappears into the darkness of the passage, leaving the hurricane lamp to project the trembling shadow of the man onto the wall until the full rise of dawn, until the rays of the sun make their way through the holes in the yellow and blue curtains, condemning the lamp to insignificance.

A hand hesitates to open the door to the room. Or is struggling to. “Daddy!” The voice of one of the children can be heard over the creaking of the door. “Where are you going?” At the woman’s shout, the child pulls the door shut and moves away. “Don’t bother your father, darling. He’s sick. He’s sleeping. Come with me!” The small footsteps run off down the passage. “But what about you, when you go in there, and shout, doesn’t that bother him?” Her mother replies: “Yes, it does.” Silence.

A fly sneaks into the heavy hush of the room. Lands on the man’s forehead. Hesitant. Uncertain. Wanders over his wrinkles, licks his skin. No taste. Definitely no taste.

The fly makes its way down into the corner of his eye. Still hesitant. Still uncertain. It tastes the white of the eye, then moves off. It isn’t chased away. It resumes its journey, getting lost in the beard, climbing the nose. Takes flight. Explores the body. Returns. Settles once more on the face. Clambers onto the tube stuffed into the half-open mouth. Licks it, moves right along it to the edge of the lips. No spit. No taste. The fly continues, enters the mouth. And is engulfed.