But it didn'tmean anything. I decided I would keep trying another days and times ofday.My sensitivity made living in my parents' apartment harder. Everyone cansense the atmosphere of house, especially when its habitants were touchedby some tragedy. For me, this common sense was basis to all stories aboutthe haunted houses - there are such houses that everybody expects thatthere is a ghost there. But every place has their "ghost," or, maybebetter (however it's non-Christian word) - aura. And aura of my parents'apartment was grim and dominated by sickness and madness of my mother,followed by silent suffer of my father, my brother and mine. As a kid, Ioften dreamed that the apartment had been somehow destroyed oruninhabitable, so we had to move out and have a fresh start, withoutthese events and emotions that "sink" into these walls. Thetransformation, the conversation with Marta, prayer on ice rank and thenightmare caused that I was weighed down even more than usual to thesegrim. Driving through town on Lucy’s last night, Jake looked over to her and saw a tear in her eye. She was leaving the next morning for Paris and couldn’t bare to be away from her lover and best friend. He sensed she needed something, a chat, a few more minutes alone so he indicated and turned off the main road to go out into the country. Lucy looked at him bemused, but he had turned on their favourite album, wound down the windows and before Lucy knew it, the two of them were singing along full pitch. She felt immediately better by releasing all that tension, and put a hand on Jake’s leg as a thankful gesture. It made her feel free and careless again, just what she needed. The couple winded down country lanes into the night, the lampposts got fewer, cars scarcer and before they knew it, they were alone. Jake pulled into a lay-by, undid his seat belt and turned towards Lucy. They were so in love that with every look they gave each other, there seemed to be such disbelief that they.
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