Musty, damp. Lasa wrinkled her nose as she tried to concentrate on her hands in front of her. The moist dust mixed with the tanned pages of some yearbook. Should she have saved this book or tossed it? Crouching close to the icky floor, she realized that it was high time for her legs to find a new position before they became sore. Uneasily, she shifted a little.
Screw it, she thought, I have to sit down. She wouldn't always leave this place with clean pants.
And while she was resting on the floor, she also dared to lean against the dusty wall with the chipped plaster.
Lasa pulled the yearbook close to her and began to flip through the pages. Occasionally she paused to look at the pictures. Students. Old pictures of whole school classes, when the children posed for the group photos. Lasa tried to figure out when these pictures were taken. Was it just before the war? Yes, it was.
A cold shiver ran down her spine. What happened to these children? A silent sadness began to fill her heart. Suddenly she felt compassion for all the young people in the pictures that she never really knew.
In the end, she decided to save the book. And so, she put it into the box for the things to keep.
With her back slightly aching, she turned towards the pile of rubble and paper again. Actually, she ought to have cleared this spot so that she and George would have some storage space in this dark cellar. But the process took longer than anticipated.
Well, maybe I should not have bothered too much about these old papers, she scorned herself. But just the same, she couldn’t let it go.
##
George was lost. Half-hidden under the sink furniture, he wondered which ends of these pipes were responsible for which function. And there was also a power cord. Unsealed. He sighed and slowly crawled backward out of his crouched position.
The kitchen of the schoolhouse was one of the few places that somehow corresponded to a standard of living. In contrast to the rest of the building, it was even surprisingly modern. Perhaps too modern. Grey tones, slick lighting, plastic surfaces. It was moreover cheap and modern. But at least it worked. Except for the sink, at the moment. But for George, this was just a minor inconvenience. Bathrooms and toilets worked fine here. What more could you want?
He pulled himself up and pushed his butt onto one of the stools at the grey kitchen table. In front of him, on the table, was a desperate jumble of pipe elbows, pipe seals, brackets, and connectors. He ran his fingers through them, examining one piece at a time. Of course, everything but the right dimensions, he growled in his head.
Lasa, having finished her expedition in the cellar, entered the kitchen and George lifted his head in gratitude. If she was done with her work, he should call it a day, too. And he was glad to have come to this point.
Lasa sat down at the table across from him, “So, how is it going?”
He sighed, “Well, I guess I will have to leave you with this unfinished sink.”
Gently, she soothed his worries, “It’s okay, I did not expect it to work right away. I will be fine.”
“Thank you,” he nodded happily, and she moved on to another topic, “So you will be leaving tomorrow?”
“Right. Tomorrow it is. For a week. Negotiations with that bank and then this job interview.”
“Okay, good luck! I will continue to get things in order here.”
He smiled ironically, “I wish you good luck with that, too.”
##
The next day, at noon, George was about to leave. Lasa stood at the main entrance of the huge school office building where they now lived. On the wide gravel lot in front of her, George slowly turned around their huge black car. It was a pre-war relic they had found on the outskirts of the capital. It used too much gas, but it was still better than no car at all.
The sun shone gently on Lasa’s skin, warming her after leaving the damp old building. She waved goodbye to her husband as the car left through the large gate of the former school campus. He waved back, only showing a hand through the driver’s window, then disappeared into the vast forest that separated the campus from civilization.
She sighed and turned to take a walk around the outside of the building. Her body ached for a walk in the sun, and the bright daylight soothed her eyes, which had had to focus in the dim light for too long.
As she walked, she made sure to stay close to the wall. Roof tiles or ornamental stones could fall at any time, and she and George had noticed that the debris always hit the ground about three feet from the wall.
The green scent of the moss that had settled on the windowsills and cracks in the facade softly touched Lasa's nose. She stopped and looked at one of these fragile little green cushions that had wonderful tiny structures resembling little ferns and delicate grass stalks. Her mind could have gotten lost in these miniature worlds; they fascinated her.
She took a deep breath and walked on. There was the corner of the building, and now she had to turn at a right angle to face the garden on the other side of the house. From there, she could see the large campus buildings with their red brick facades. Huge windows, divided by numerous narrow horizontal and vertical bars, gave a mysterious hint of the large halls that might be inside. It must have been a beautiful school building, Lasa thought. But now, some window sections were broken, and the remaining glass bore a grey patina of dust and age. Here and there, green ivy had taken over the walls of the brick building, making the whole scene even more romantic than it needed to be.
The beauty of the place filled Lasa with awe, but also with regret. Slowly, she made her way to the abandoned meadow, which was already partially overgrown with bushes. Leaving the ruined façade of the house behind her, she cautiously stepped across the lush meadow and approached an ornate iron gate that marked the end of the garden and the section of the old school office building. Here, behind the gate, the campus of the former public school began. Now it was a gate to ruins.
Lasa stopped right in front of the gate and peered through the bars at the place beyond. Slowly, she breathed in and out. There was a funny feeling in the air. Her focus was blurred and somehow it felt strange to stand there and stare. A damp fear had gripped her heart, and only now did she realize it. She shook her head in silence. How stupid you are. There is nothing to fear here except falling ornaments and stones. She decided to break through her clammy state by daring to touch the bars of the gate. Slowly, she raised her right hand and grabbed the iron - ZASH! A bright bolt of lightning threw her backwards onto the grass!
Dazed and stunned, she lay there, still holding her right hand close to her face as if holding a pole, but it just hurt ... hurt badly. She couldn't see. Not really. Maybe a little. The blindness was white ... coarse white.
Groaning, she rolled over to the right, gasping and trying to see something. There, to the left, she saw some shapes. The silhouette of the school building, shadows of trees...maybe the blue of the sky? Slowly, colors and shapes came back to her. She tried to focus on her right hand, but it seemed as if her vision had to take a detour. She forced her eyes to it. Burnt skin. It would hurt for weeks!
She pushed herself up with her right elbow, trying to protect the burnt palm of her hand from anything. She had some trouble getting her balance back to sit up straight.
Oof, why is everything so tilted?
She tried to shake off something that was barring her right side, but there was nothing there. Puzzled, she tried to sense what was going on, and then suddenly it came to her. Horrified, she raised her left hand and carefully covered her left eye.
Whiteness. Relentless whiteness.
Her right eye was blinded. She was shocked by this fact. She felt nothing. Several questions haunted her mind. Was it temporary? Maybe it would come back. Or would it not? Just like that? One eye less?
In the distance, she heard an echo and wondered if she was still alone. Trying to break the spell of shock, she gave herself a push to get up. Crooked, wobbly, but finally upright, she lifted her injured hand, turned, and slowly walked back to the house. She had to reach her bed. To sleep. To sleep. That was all she wanted right then.
##
Lasa slept soundly and dreamed. Dreams of the school yearbook she had kept. A group photo appeared clearly in front of her, coming closer and closer. Too close. She was relieved to see the children come out of the picture and begin to move as if they were in motion forever. They giggled, they danced, they chatted, they chased each other. Lasa observed them with fascination. She felt happy. And suddenly she joined in the children's laughter, laughing out loud with joy.
Astonished that she was being so frolicsome, she stopped and noticed that one of the children was standing in front of her attentively. Lasa looked at the child, and the child looked back at her. Silence.
Instantly, the child pointed at her with a stretched arm and burst out, “You know, you have lost one thing!”
"Yes!" Lasa replied in surprise.
But the child continued,
"And you have also won one thing!"
Panting, Lasa awakened from her dream and pushed herself up in bed, sweating. Immediately, her right hand began to hurt because she had used it to pull herself up. She grimaced in pain and tried to make sense of the dream.
Which one thing?