Absolute Sunset Read Online Free PDF

Sabina went to the window. She watched them through the dusty curtain for a while. The sun was still low, so most areas remained dark and shadowed. It was quite cold, and the grass was wet with dew, almost as if it had rained.
    Hanka bounced along, a crazy, snotty-nosed kid. Her behaviour irritated Sabina a lot. Hanka’s skirt tangled between her legs. Her pockets seemed to be stuffed with stones—she must have crammed some kind of rubbish in there. As if clothes were free, the reckless little snot. She kept bringing old crap home, and Sabina had to keep throwing the junk away. Hanka’s drawers were full of it.
    Sabina waited until her husband and child disappeared around the corner of the block. Only then did she tie her dressing gown tighter, open the window wide, and let some fresh air into the flat. Along with the smell of the cabbage and boiled potatoes—the stink of somebody’s dinner rather than the pleasant scent of a summer morning. As eternal as grass. Sabina leaned her elbows on the windowsill and took a look at the courtyard. A tiny windstorm that blew between the blocks of flats from time to time messed her hair and then flew away towards the slag heaps.
    The tireless gossips were already traipsing around the courtyard. They’d been lugging dusty carpets towards the carpet beating rack, dragging squat shopping bags full of potatoes from the marketplace, and walking their mongrels. From time to time they gathered into small groups to exchange information about the residents of the
Tysiąclecie
estate and about the scandals and rows caused by drunk brawlers. About new cars, and about children with dirty hair, and about everyone about whom they had something to report. Preferably something terrible. The women’s tongues worked relentlessly, until they were out of breath. Sabina snorted with disgust. Old farts! They probably took her name in vain, too. Sometimes they were so loud that Sabina could hear them from her apartment.
    “Cheers!” she shouted to the manically chattering guardians of community morality, and slammed the window shut.
    She couldn’t stand the housing estate.
Tysiąclecie
—a perfect name for the work of communist planners. She hated densely packed blocks built from huge concrete slabs in worship of who knew what. She detested the chutes, which always stank of Lysol, and the lawns covered in dog shit. And the battered playgrounds. But what she hated most fiercely were the intrusive eyes that followed her when she went to the shop or to the hairdresser. Sticky and nosey. She was afraid of them. She was disgusted with them. But at the same time she felt like proving to them what she was actually capable of.
    She reached for another cigarette and brewed another coffee. An inscription on the edge of the mug read:
Katowice—a cheerful city.
There was nothing cheerful here. Sabina wiped the worktop with her sleeve. Then lit the new cigarette, just to kill time.
    Around ten o’clock an annoying tune sounded as somebody rang the doorbell. Hanka adored the doorbell. Janusz, too. But it got on Sabina’s nerves. Especially when she opened the door to find one of her daughter’s friends.
Hania is in the courtyard behind the block. Yep, she’s playing on the carpet beating rack. Goodbye.
    La-la-lee, lee-lee-la, the bell rang. Sabina was sitting in front of the TV, which was off—she hadn’t bothered to turn it on. She stared at the black screen, covered with several days’ dust, making smoke rings. From time to time she lay down on the sofa, only to get up again a moment later. The couch was almost entirely threadbare, so it was impossible to have a decent rest there.
    The doorbell shattered the quiet. It forced his way into the empty flat, into the silence of a late morning for which she had no plan. At first Sabina decided to ignore it, then to smash it. Finally she began to panic and decided to open the door. She swiftly wiped the coffee table with her hand, smears of dust sticking to her