Our SG Fiction newsletter features an original short story from a different author around the world. It’s part of our set of expanded offerings. At least once a month, you’ll receive an original short story from a different part of the world, today’s selection is by Vesna Maric from our Mediterranean guide.
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Comrade Rosa
By Vesna Maric
Rosa Maric had many rituals. She woke at exactly the same time every day, washed her face and hands and her body, wiping each part with a warm flannel cloth, her armpits, under her breasts, between her legs, legs, feet and then she put cream on her skin and brushed her hair. She made coffee, prepared breakfast for everyone. She opened up the shop. And on Thursday mornings—she had chosen this day as it had been the first day she left the house after baby Yasen died—she went into the woods. No matter the weather. Yasen was born three years after Mona, a strong baby, eyes like blue marbles, a mouth as soft as the inside of a cloud. What happened? Rosa wondered. He looked perfectly healthy. But one day, he simply did not wake up. His life sucked out of him overnight. In his crib, unmoving. Rosa had seen death, all kinds of death, had caused death, was at the brink of death, but she had never experienced such short life, which just the day before had felt so forcefully evident in the tiny grip of its fist, the ferocity of its cry, she had never seen such life just disappear. There had always been a cause: war, hunger, savagery, disease, old age, accidents. But what was this? God’s will? The wheel of fortune? Bad luck?
