When you remove the bandage from my eyes, I close my eyes even tighter, as if afraid to see something terrible and bloody in front of me; I hear your unhurried steps, the clinking of glass and the way you push a chair away, which makes its legs slide noisily along the parquet; I can smell food, burning candles and the delicate scent of flowers. I'm not cold - you brought a chic cashmere sweater dress, warm socks and, judging by the crackling of logs, additionally lit the fireplace, but a shiver of fear forces me to tightly bring my knees together and hide my hands under the table so...