The date

           A man stands in the middle of a bedroom, alone. He stands still, but his eyes move fast, looking left and right. He walks towards a chest of drawers, gets a shirt out. He takes off the one he’s wearing, stained with sweat, and puts on the clean one instead. He then walks into the adjacent bathroom, spreads foam on his face, and starts shaving, inflicting himself multiple cuts because of his shaking hands. He splashes water on his poorly-shaved, bloody cheeks. He takes a look at his messy hair for a second, groans, and rushes out without fixing it.




         The front door opens softly. A little light turns on, and the same man enters the room, followed by a tired-looking woman. Both are widely smiling. His shirt is now stained with sweat and coffee, too. The woman is carryig something in her arms, wrapped in a blanket. They whisper a few words to each other, and the man takes the little package from her arms, after what she lies down on the bed. He carefully crosses the room, removes the blanket, and puts a little baby in bed. He looks at it for a minute, sighs, and lies next to the woman.