Martha lay on the warm pelt and watched the yellow fire with one eye ajar, quite lazily. The fire was so-so, the wooden floorboards had not yet begun to burn, and the dresses, tossed instead of kindling, had already almost turned to ashes. Just the plastic dolls melted softly and gave the fire a bluish color. The black veil was left in her hands. Martha clutched it tightly with her fingers, then pulled it away from her. Such cat food games. 

Martha kept trying to explain to herself this addiction to the black veil. Perhaps she wore it to ward off the world. Perhaps just to miss him. After all, then, for the first time, she was hiding behind a veil. And when she escaped, she was torn from the world. But she did not throw away the veil. 

The burning plastic began to spread, and the wood flooring finally ignited. Martha reached for the stereo and pressed the start button. A pleasant crackling of the tape and the soft voice of the Blue Tiger floated through the house. 

–“You are running away from a choice, aren’t you?”

–“No, no! Of course, not. I’m running from the groom. I’m straight from the wedding.”

–“Judging by the black veil, from your own wedding, as far as I understand.”

Martha pressed the scrolling button, and the voices chewed up. 

– “My dear Tiger, listen to this! My article about the theory of Eternal Pleasure was published in the city newspaper”

– “And in what section?”

– “In the commercial column. Between the modeling school and funeral bureau ads”

– “This is the most appropriate interval for pleasure, in my opinion”

– “I think so, too. I’ll probably sue them”

– “The reasons?”

– “How can it be a pleasure to advertise a pleasure! Is it possible to impose pleasure?”

– “Honey, why do you record our conversations on tape?”

– “Just don’t make stuff up. This is to prove that you exist. It’s nothing personal. It’s just that I doubt you so often. I mean, after all, you’re a Blue Tiger, so it would be strange not to doubt you. It’s also because I always forget you. Whenever I turn my back, I forget”

– “Do you really need to remember?”

– “Of course! Otherwise, I would consider myself completely ungrateful”

– “I admit I doubted you, too, given your wing instead of your left arm. I was sure that after such injuries, from the feathers penetrating your heart, you had no ability to feel anything at all. And you’ve taken too long to convince me that you were half-human after all”

– “I do not deny what I said”

– “But the silver chain, from your wing, you pinned again to my tail by yourself”

– “Who knew you would see such a surge of strength and confidence in it?”

– “You assured me of this in your letters. When you wrote to me from your escape”

– “I wrote that I was doing well” 

– “You wrote to me”

– “I don’t like it when you’re right”

The tape ran out. 

The beige trenchcoat hung as usual on a hanger. The striped pelt lay on the floor.

Martha thought, not on tape, but on paper it should have been written down. Someone had told her that handwriting didn’t burn.