That morning seemed like any other, until Yaron came upstairs to breakfast in Mrs Malíkovás kitchen. In the kitchen everything turned upside down, because breakfast wasnt ready, even though Mrs Malíková was sitting there, and seemed to have been sitting there for quite some time already. Yaron had no objections whatsoever against the nonexistent breakfast; many times, before he moved in here, had he prepared breakfast for himself and Mrs Malíkovás practice was in fact still embarrassing him after the three years. But there was something about Mrs Malíková which he felt strongly obliged to have objections to. She was sitting on his chair, her chin in her hands, her brows frowned and her eyes watery. And that wasnt normal.
Good morning, Yaron said, with an awkward feeling that it really wasnt the right thing to say.
Good for you, but not for me any