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out to touch its faces and corners as Viktor slept. Not really believing the crystal had power, but finding the feel of its symmetry, its solidity, and its always being there comforting.
    When the phone rang, Mariya picked it up quickly. “Hi.”
    “And hi to yourself.” A man’s voice, not Viktor’s. “My company has recently acquired premium apartments in all areas of Kiev. Perhaps you would be interested—”
    “I have an apartment, comrade!” said Mariya, slamming the phone down.
    On the night table beside the phone and the crystal was the wedding photograph. Only a month earlier, at the Polish Catholic church chosen by Viktor, the priest had said, “Do you, Mariya?” and “Do you, Viktor?” Only a month earlier they had made it official after living together for a year. During their prenuptial year together, Viktor had bought several insurance policies for his adult video store saying an adult video store in his section of Kiev’s southwest district needed insurance. The store was crammed between two dilapidated warehouses, and he feared a fire in the middle of the night. Viktor’s vow at the altar had been preceded by his vow to rid himself of the pornography shop within a year. Viktor hated it when she referred to his store as a pornography shop.
    “It’s an adult video store, Mariya. The videos are seconds from closets with swinging doors at the backs of so-called bookstores. So don’t tell me who’s selling pornography!”
    Mariya picked up the phone, tried the store’s number. No answer. Twelve rings and no answer, not even the answering machine. She tried again; still no answer after twenty rings. On the third try, she got a busy signal. She held the crystal with her left hand. It was unchanging, so unlike people’s lives. For a moment she wondered if it had all gone too fast—she and Viktor getting married when she knew virtually nothing of his past. She tried his cell phone number and got the message saying the phone was unavailable. Whenever he left his cell phone in his precious BMW parked in the back room with the overhead door closed, her calls never got through.
    Mariya put the crystal down, went into the bathroom, refilled her water bottle, came out to her bicycle, and slipped the bottle into its holder on the down tube.
    While Mariya placed several more unanswered calls to the store and to Viktor’s cell phone, she recalled Viktor’s lowered tone of voice before he had abruptly hung up. Something was wrong, and the phone was no use!
    Mariya took her riding gloves out of the helmet, put them on, strapped the helmet beneath her chin, made sure her keys and cell phone were in the saddle bag, and carried her bicycle down the two flights of stairs to the street.

    The reason Mariya took her bicycle instead of the Audi Viktor gave her as a wedding gift was that she knew she would make better time. She’d ride the bicycle path along the river toward the Caves Monastery, then side streets, zigzagging her way to bypass railway and bus stations. On side streets, she’d avoid afternoon traffic. But why the hurry? Simply because the phone didn’t work and because Viktor had lowered his voice? Yes, that was why. And if everything was as it should be, Viktor would greet her at the entrance and have a fine afternoon watching the browsers peer at her skin-tight riding outfit with smiles on their faces. At closing time, they would put her bicycle in the back of his BMW and tonight he would be in her arms instead of in the dream world, which had taken him away from her during the past two weeks.
    It was only seven kilometers to the airport, and this morning she had ridden thirty along the trails. Seven kilometers was nothing, and if she kept up her pace she’d be to the store in minutes.
    After the river trail, she faced the sun as she sped up side streets. When she turned and looked behind, she saw her shadow racing behind. On a downgrade, she shifted to a higher gear and kept it there. Even with