It was left behind the door. Her husband had gone out. He was sitting on the stairs of the corridor and looking at his shopping cart. The lights in the corridor were going off every minute and he didn't bother to turn them on. Pale light was shining from the skylight behind him, spreading its shadow on the floor of the corridor. In the dark, it seemed to him that the shoemaker was going up and down among the lettuces he had bought. He is afraid to touch them. Every now and then, footsteps came from downstairs. But none of them were her husband's footsteps. It's all the sound of people's feet...
