Absolute Sunset Read Free Page A

like the crystal clear water that Janusz’s mother had used to wash her hair so long ago. “It’s the healthiest way to get a beautiful braid!” she would laugh, with her breasts rocking to the side as she soaked her hair in a bucket.
    Obviously, he didn’t have an umbrella. And, as usual, he’d gone out wearing loafers, which got soaked in the first few steps. Damn it! Another day in damp footwear. Another wonderful day.
    People crowded beneath the roof of the bus stop, repeatedly stepping on each other’s feet and apologising, bumping each other with bags and files. They seethed in the plastic shelter, grey and a little shaggy, like moths in a jar.
    Janusz somehow managed to shelter under the roof while he waited. The steam wafting above the crowd smelled of potatoes and cabbage. So typical of Silesia—that smell was literally everywhere. He raised his collar and pressed his nose into it. Since Sabina rarely cooked, the fabric hadn’t yet picked up the odour of stewed meat and beets.
    A pack of stray dogs ran across the field behind the stop. They barked at each other, rushing after a piece of rubbish driven by the wind. A few of them limped. They often attacked people, mainly kids and old ladies, but they were intimidated by the crowd at the bus stop, running past while casting a few bleary-eyed looks at the waiting people.
    Surprisingly, the bus came on time. Full. The passengers, flattened against the windows, could barely breathe. Janusz jumped onto the step and leaned inward. The door closed with a hiss, and he was immediately shoved back by the crowd and pressed against the window pane. If the door opened suddenly, he would undoubtedly fall into the street. His skull would crack, his blood would stream. They would rob him of his briefcase and wallet and then call the police. He couldn’t decide whether he wanted it to happen or feared it.
    The stink of dirty clothes nauseated him.
Why wash your clothes every day? They’ll get dirty at work anyhow.
Janusz jumped out of the bus every time it stopped in order to let passengers out and to let new ones in. Then he crammed back inside, going last just so he could enjoy the fresh air as long as possible. It might not have been bracing and crystalline, but at least it didn’t make him retch. In the end, exhausted from jumping in and out and pushing into the crowd, he got off the bus two stops early.
    His mine appeared at the end of the road—a straight road, built just for his unit. Once a great power, the
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mine had become a bottomless money pit. Old, creased photographs of the opening and other important events hung on the walls of the cloakroom. It was hard to believe that such things had ever happened here, that someone had actually gotten some record-breaking results.
    Today, in a time when the expression “black gold” provoked nothing but laughter, the miners, longing for an early, generous retirement, weren’t mining very much. Even if they’d wanted to do more, they didn’t have the equipment. They went down the mine because it was something their grandfathers and fathers had done. For glory. For tradition. Janusz was an accountant, though, not an actual miner. A mediocre pencil-pusher in a small department, just ten people all together. Sabina despised his job. “If you were tough, you’d go down!” she would say, mocking him.
    In the past, when the miners’ position had been better, he’d been satisfied at his job. No risk, reliable profits, and access to the mining shops! But now? He did mundane chores: stamping bills, printing chits. Waiting for retirement. Thank God he could retire early! Then he would start his own accounting office and take his work home. Or he’d simply work from home! He’d buy the neatest school bag ever for Hanka, and some coloured felt-tip pens. He’d be able to save a little money for her university!
    Janusz, his mind fixed on his glowing future, realized that he’d already reached the gate. He kicked it,