An Unexpected Confidant

Signora Petrova found her in the pantry, wedged between sacks of flour and a row of pickled beets. Elena’s shoulders shook with silent sobs she had tried to muffle against her apron. The afternoon light filtered through a small, grimy window, catching the streaks of tears on her cheeks.

Elena had not heard the footsteps. The first sign of another presence was the rustle of a starched skirt, then the creak of the pantry door swinging wider. She looked up, startled, her eyes red and swollen. She expected a reprimand. She expected sharp words about wasting time, about the afternoon’s lesson on preserving fruit that she had abandoned.

Instead, Signora Petrova stood still. Her face, usually set in lines of stern expectation, softened almost imperceptibly. She said nothing for a long moment. Then she turned and walked away.