Short Story

Sunbeams bounce off the bonnets of the parked Ladas which flank the deserted Czech street. She doesn’t know how to deal with her first Prague summer. It’s a city that lends itself to the friendly white muffler of the winter, when the icing on the buildings accentuates their beauty.

There is something sinister about the golden stifling heat and the harsh empty brightness. She glances down the steep cobbled street from the corner of her narrow balcony. Nobody is out there. It feels as though they know something she doesn’t.

After half an hour of crackling World Service and a cup of black tea with lemon she locks the door of her apartment and strolls slowly down Madridska street, past the grocers with the Kiwi fruits which nestle luxuriantly amidst the potatoes, onions and jars of pickled things.

Her slightly stooped, grey haired student peers through the glass doors of…