“…Pieces of dreams: in the morning, as he slept, she’d kiss the middle of his back. She’d walk barefoot, and he would hand her the slippers. He would shovel the snow in front of the door as she looked out the window. They would go to the mountains, rivers, lakes, and seaside. They would never go to cities anymore.
Now she is cut off from those possibilities, and the woman thinks: that is her blood dripping from the edges of the words she reads…”
From “Birdcage”, a short story by Korana Serdarević, translated from the Croatian by Iva Gjurkin in the latest Saturday European Fiction.
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