It was the middle of the night. You felt that Kafka wasn’t beside you in bed. You put on her shirt, standing up as you look for her.

You find her in the balcony, smoking a cigarette and a glass of wine next to her, wearing only an unbuttoned shirt and pajama pants.

You wrap your arms around her, nuzzling your face in her back. She turns back to you, chuckling as she threw the cigarette away. “Oh? What are you doing up so late, doll?” She asks, her voice smooth and seductive as always.