Divorce, a Hamster, a Neighbor and Other New Year Surprises

— Do you by any chance have…? — I cut myself off, suddenly feeling like a complete idiot. — A bathrobe? Or anything at all. My things are still in my apartment, and I…

— No bathrobes, — he answered briefly.

Of course. Where would a lone man in a spotless bachelor apartment get bathrobes from? Great question, Vera.

He paused, and then clarified anyway:

— Would a T-shirt work? Clean.

— It will. Thank you.

He nodded silently and left. A minute later, he returned with a gray cotton T-shirt—two sizes, maybe even three, bigger than what I need.

— Here you go, — he said, passing it to me while stubbornly avoiding my gaze. — The kitchen is at the end of the corridor. If you want tea or… something.

Tea. I tried to picture myself sitting in his designer kitchen, wrapped in his T-shirt, drinking tea. Awkward small talk with a man to whom I now owe for a bumper. “How was your day?” — “Well, you know: my husband flew off with his mistress, the apartment burned down, and then I crashed into your car. And yours?”

— Thanks, but I’ll probably just lie down. The day was… — I didn’t finish. There wasn’t a word that could possibly contain what that day was.