The Breath of Long-Forgotten Days

"Good Lord, what’s that smell?" Linda grimaced as she walked into El Pintor (the door chimed awkwardly as she entered).

"The same as always, madam — purest oxygen," answered Theo from behind the counter, wearing his usual backward cap.

They both laughed and hugged.

"Krušovice for me," Linda said, sitting down at the bar.

"So, what's new, where've you been, what have you seen?" Theo asked, pulling a bottle from the fridge.

"I've been all over..." She shook her head. "Maybe you could have a beer too?"

"I'm working," Theo spread his hands. "Maybe later, a little."

Linda nodded, took a puff from her oxygen canister, and sipped her beer.

***

Two weeks had pased. Oxygen saturation had dropped to 29%. Every day the numbers kept falling. Ivan was already doubting his ability to think clearly. There was never enough air. Life had turned into a series of short sprints between university, home, and occasionally the store.
He had almost finished the paper he promised to Moldor but decided he should go for another consultation before submitting it — and maybe hear the latest news.
He checked his email — yes, the appointment was set for tomorrow. All good. Ivan sighed in relief, stood up from his desk, and cranked the hyperventilation system to maximum.

***

10:37 PM — the clock on the wall flashed.
For two weeks now, Akemi and Thomas had been struggling to unravel the mystery of the lilac.
What they knew for sure — it was a random mutation, and definitely not the result of any deliberate breeding.

"Shall we write that in the report?" Thomas was nearly dozing off over his keyboard.

"Wait," Akemi pulled him back, "yes, of course we’ll write that. But we need to suggest... planting... the 'Dead Grove'... reproducing... saving... wait, how was it again..."

Akemi slumped onto her arms, face down on the desk, and fell asleep, mumbling about lilac propagation.

Thomas nodded and kept working on the report for Raifenberg.

"She’s out," he thought, almost fondly glancing at Akemi.

"Focus, report," he slapped his own cheeks to stay awake.

***

Once in Dubrovnik — the city Ivan came from — a terrible storm broke out. He was four — no, maybe already five years old. Frightened by the thunder outside, he woke up in the middle of the night and ran to his mother’s bedroom.

"It’s okay..." she soothed him as he crawled under the blanket and clung tightly to her.

A few hours later, near dawn (he remembered the morning light filtering through the curtains), he woke up.
The embrace was cold, stiff, and unpleasant.
Ivan rubbed his eyes and turned his head.
His mother’s lifeless, glassy eyes stared back at him.

She was dead.

Ivan screamed like never before until his father burst into the room.

No one ever really figured out what happened. She had been perfectly healthy — a sudden cardiac arrest in her sleep.

Ivan never returned to that house, let alone that room.
In time, his father remarried and distanced himself further each day. Ivan felt it sharply — the growing distance, the fading connection.

He felt like there was no place for him in Dubrovnik, or in Croatia.
He finished school with a firm decision to study social sciences and, one day, stumbled upon the website of Bielefeld University.

When he told his father he wanted to study in Germany, the man simply nodded silently and handed him money.
Thus their family relationship finally shifted fully into a cash transaction.

Ivan jolted awake.

"That stupid dream again..."
He looked at the clock — only half-past three — still time left.

He flipped the pillow to the cold side, burrowed back into the blanket, and fell asleep again.

***

Reinhardt was pushing a garden cart filled with jars containing lilac branches.
The streets were nearly deserted — in recent weeks, it was rare to see anyone outside — especially in such suffocating heat when breathing without a mask was nearly impossible.

Anyone unfamiliar with Reinhardt might have thought he’d gone completely mad with age — but far from it. He was perfectly sound.

His bicycle, however, wasn’t — its chain had snapped.
"Need to fix that," he thought, approaching another door.

He rang the bell. Frau Brünig — a stocky elderly woman from whom Reinhardt had learned much about gardening — opened the door.
He greeted her and pulled a jar with a lilac branch from the cart.

"Are you sure this will help?"

"Who knows?" Reinhardt didn't pretend. "We're down to 26% now, they say — can’t even go outside without a mask. But so far, nobody's complained."

Frau Brünig took the jar, nodded gratefully, and crossed herself.

"Oh Lord, what is happening to us..."

"Got any oxygen tanks left?"

"Yeah, barely holding on," she sighed.

Reinhardt nodded approvingly and pushed his cart further down the street.

He felt like a preacher... or maybe just a pesky salesman.
Luckily, almost everyone in Hochberg knew him — no one was surprised when he showed up offering lilac seedlings.
He himself had nowhere left to plant them — the lilac was growing like crazy. It seemed the worse the air, the better the lilac thrived.
A few days ago, he cleared a flowerbed — all the other plants had already died anyway — turned the soil, and replanted several cuttings.
He didn’t even bother anymore with fertilizers, watering, or anything — the lilac grew despite it all, creating much-needed shade and, most importantly, fresh air.

As he slowly pushed his empty cart home, a cat suddenly darted out of nowhere — black, with a white collar and a tag.
Reinhardt recognized her.
"You're Frau Brünig’s cat, aren't you?"

He pulled out the last lilac sprig and held it out to her.

The cat sniffed it carefully, twitched her ears, shook her head, and pulled away.

"Well, suit yourself," Reinhardt chuckled and made his way home with a smile.

***

"I went shopping recently — just to pick up a few things," Linda said, sipping her beer.

Theo listened carefully.

"People were buying oxygen by the crate. I decided to grab a couple of small tanks too..."

"You don't stock up on big tanks?" Theo interrupted.

"I've got two fifty-liter ones at home," Linda nodded. "But, well... I figured I'd take some smaller ones to carry around... and..."

"And?" Theo prompted.

Linda hesitated but forced herself to continue.

***

There in the store, picking up a canister, she caught sight of him from the corner of her eye.
He saw her too and approached, balancing a basket of groceries.

"Leonard!" the heavyset man in a brown polo and denim shorts called out — clearly mistaking her for someone else.

"You’ve got the wrong person," she said politely, staring at the floor.

"Oh, come on now!" the man laughed, shifting the basket. "How've you been, Leo?"

"No, you really have the wrong person," she slowly said, trembling with anger. "Leo is gone. Leo is dead."

This man — her father.

"Leo, listen, you can..."

"Leo is gone," she repeated, staring straight into his eyes. "He's gone. Linda is here now. Accept it and move on."

And then he grabbed her by the throat.

"Now tell me your name," he growled, tossing the basket aside, face red, veins bulging.

She choked and smacked his hand with her palm. He loosened his grip a little.

"Linda," she gasped. "My name is Linda."

He recoiled from her like she was contagious.

"Faggot. No, you´re even worse..."

She grabbed a can of bathroom air freshener — lilac-scented, it seemed — and sprayed it directly into his face.

"Fucking bitch!" he screamed, doubling over, rubbing his eyes.

Linda dropped her groceries and ran out of the store — but was secretly glad he had cursed at her in the feminine form.

***

"And that's pretty much how it went," she concluded, finishing her beer.

"And you haven’t seen him since?" Theo asked.

"Hopefully never again," Linda waved her hand. "Could you play Plastic Love again?"

Theo nodded and went behind the counter to queue up the song.

***

The sea stretched endlessly, the beach seemed infinite.
Akemi ran along the shoreline, laughing, flinching whenever the waves tickled her feet.

Her grandmother sat a little ways back on the sand, smiling as she watched.

"It's not time yet to go to Itoshima..."

"What?" Akemi looked around — but heard nothing but the surf and the cries of seagulls.

The sun was setting, painting the sky.

She turned and saw her grandmother approaching, holding a coffee grinder — where had that come from?
A sharp smell of coffee hit her nose, everything blurred — and Akemi woke up.

Thomas was holding a steaming mug under her nose.

"Oh, thanks! Ow!" she exclaimed, burning her tongue on the first sip. "What's the news?" she stretched.

"All good — I finished the report. Could've been twice as fast if you hadn’t been napping on the job," Thomas grumbled.

"How long was I out?" Akemi tensed.

"Relax, just twenty minutes. No big deal. We did a great job tonight."

She exhaled and nodded.

"Let's see what Raifenberg says tomorrow. For now — we're done. Let's go?"

Akemi nodded, stretched once more, and started packing her backpack.

They turned off the lab lights and stepped out.
The night air didn't greet them with a breeze — only a landscape of dry, withered bushes and trees.
They slowly headed toward the tram stop.