They are in a garden restaurant on the leafy slope of the Petrin Park. Doubtful whether her decision to throw her past overboard is correct, Nathalie clasps the cutlery tight in her hands. All in all her recent life has not been too bad. Its grey was lightened up by bright moments with her friends. They saw the films that, by pure miracle, escaped the vigilance of the all-mighty censors, discussed the novels smuggled in from the free world. They walked on the sunny side of the street happy to be together. Now she is giving it all up. Her life will go on with a part missing, a gap impossible to fill. She swallows hard not to choke on a sneaking suspicion that her departure may be not worth the risk.
The shadowy confines of her future bathe in the pale August light. Elijah’s voice that should give her reassurance drowns in the rustling of the desiccating leaves. She feels numb. It is similar to be in the hands of a surgeon who is about to cut out the brain tumour that lames her more and more with every day. She forces her lips into a smile reassuring Elijah that she is alive and not the embalmed body of his dream girl.
He hails a taxi at the edge of the Petrin Hill brings her inside and takes her face in his hands as gently as he will handle her new life from now on. She shuts her eyes seeing no other chance than to trust him blindly.