Trafika Europe 2 - Polish Nocturne
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10

everyone liked him. Naturally he earned a lot more working

up there. But it wasn’t about the money for him.

So can you imagine it, one day during lunch, word went

around that the Priest had fallen to his death. Some people

said he’d fallen, others that someone else must have had a

hand in it, still others that he’d fallen deliberately. Other-

wise he would have been holding his torch and had his

goggles on. Whereas he’d set the torch aside and taken his

goggles off. But we never learned the truth. The cause of it

may have been concealed up above there. The construction

had already reached the fifth floor. And the floors were high

ones, the building was going to be a factory. When you get

used to the high places like that, maybe you can’t get over

the fact that you live down below. With high places there’s

no messing around. Me too, whenever I climbed up to visit

with him, I always felt something either pulling me

downwards, or drawing me even higher.

If you ask me, though, the truth lay elsewhere. There was a

girl. She worked in the cafeteria. No, nothing of that sort. I

told you he kept away from girls. He liked her, the feeling

was mutual. He was gentle, polite, not like the rest of us.

The most he did was when she’d bring the soup or the main

course, he’d admire her braided hair, say how beautiful it

was, how you hardly ever saw hair like that anymore. It was

true, her braid was as thick as my wrist here. And it reached

all the way down past her waist at the back. Everyone

would tug at it as she brought their food.