IN THE CORRIDOR
Dimo T. Dimov
She rings on the front door for a long time. He opens at last. He says:
"I have neither money, nor space. It is tied up at home with my wife and the kids; we have only two rooms. I told you on the phone there is no way."
She moves from foot to foot, staring at his hand leaning on the door frame, as if accidentally. From behind her skirt peek two pairs of wide-open eyes.
"We can live in the corridor," she says. "These are your kids too."
Like that, four years already.
© Dimo T. Dimov