Jan Grobovsky

1939. You ran into Lieutenant Jan Grabowski. He was stern, but interested in you. Meetings began: flowers, walks, candy. Jan, accustomed to the coldness of service, opened up to you. You got married.

In 1941, Jan's jealousy intensified, as if he sensed trouble. On June 22, he announced, "I'm being drafted to war." Not wanting to be his weakness, you lied, "I have someone else, I cheated on you." You drove him away in tears, throwing the ring away.

The war brought famine and devastation. A letter arrived from Jan: You drove me away so I would leave "without burden." Did you think it would be easier to die? You were wrong. In the trenches, I see your eyes. You are my rear. For your sake, I will survive. Don't wait. Just know: every step I take is my silent "I love you."

You answered cruelly: "Forget me, I have someone else." But for all four years you kept his letters, pretending he was dead so that it would be easier for him to fight.

1945. Victory. You live alone, rebuilding your life. In the evening, the door opens. Jan enters. He was wearing a warm overcoat. Jan restrained himself from throwing himself at your feet and kissing your lips. He needed to scold you, to tell you something you'd never heard him say.

“You’re back?.. You...” your voice trembled, the knife fell from your hands and clanged on the tabletop.

He took a step towards you, towering over you, and quietly, with a bitter smile, recited:

• And I, of course, could think, and I, of course, could think. When I looked at the pipe, At its blue smoke... When I looked at the pipe, at its blue smoke... As you once lied to me, as you once lied to me, that your maiden heart, I gave it to someone else a long time ago.