Janusz couldn’t see it. She was beautiful, perfect, wonderful—she was everything a man might want. She was talkative, and Janusz was usually silent because he’s sparing with words. She chatted and chatted and it impressed him—she was a bit drunk, after all. She swept her hair out of her face, she laughed, and he looked at her with worship and a certain terror, as if he didn’t understand why she had chosen him. Honestly? I didn’t know why either. Even now I don’t know. I think she and Janusz had been persuaded that it was the thing to do.