I sat there for a long time and watched the sky.
At five o’clock some streetcars pulled up, clanging
away. They were bringing back gangs of fans from the
local soccer stadium. They were crowded onto the running boards and hanging from the handrails. The streetcars that followed brought back the players, whom I
recognized by their little athletic bags. They were shouting and singing at the tops of their lungs that their team
would never die. Several of them waved to me. One of
them even yelled up to me, “We beat ’em!” And I
nodded, as if to say “Yes. ” From then on there was a
steady stream of cars.
The sky changed again. Above the rooftops the sky
had taken on a reddish glow, and with evening coming
on the streets came to life. People were straggling back
from their walks. I recognized the distinguished little
man among the others. Children were either crying or
lagging behind. Almost all at once moviegoers spilled
out of the neighborhood theaters into the street. The
young men among them were gesturing more excitedly
than usual and I thought they must have seen an adventure film. The ones who had gone to the movies in
town came back a little later. They looked more serious.
They were still laughing, but only now and then, and
they seemed tired and dreamy. But they hung around
anyway, walking up and down the sidewalk across the
street. The local girls, bareheaded, were walking arm in arm. The young men had made sure they would have
to bump right into them and then they would make
cracks. The girls giggled and turned their heads away.
Several of the girls, whom I knew, waved to me.
Then the street lamps came on all of a sudden and
made the first stars appearing in the night sky grow dim.
I felt my eyes getting tired from watching the street
filled with so many people and lights. The street lamps
were making the pavement glisten, and the light from
the streetcars would glint off someone’s shiny hair, or off
a smile or a silver bracelet. Soon afterwards, with the
streetcars running less often and the sky already blue
above the trees and the lamps, the neighborhood emptied
out, almost imperceptibly, until the first cat slowly made
its way across the now deserted street. Then I thought
maybe I ought to have some dinner.’ My neck was a little
stiff from resting my chin on the back of the chair for
so long. I went downstairs to buy some bread and spaghetti, did my cooking, and ate standing up. I wanted to
smoke a cigarette at the window, but the air was getting
colder and I felt a little chilled. I shut my windows, and
as I was coming back I glanced at the mirror and saw a
corner of my table with my alcohol lamp next to some
pieces of bread. It occurred to me that anyway one more
Sunday was over, that Maman was buried now, that I
was going back to work, and that, really, nothing had
chang