Srebrenka lived down at the end of my street. One morning I was supposed to get together with her for coffee, but it was raining like hell all day, so I never went. And that rainy afternoon, she actually did it: she committed suicide. But—when we Slavs do things, we do them big!—she committed not just single but quadruple suicide: She turned on the gas in the oven, cut her wrists, took sleeping pills, and hanged herself.
