She is not even sure whether it really happened or whether it is only her imagination. It probably did happen; the picture in her mind is too clear and too concrete for it to be a fantasy. Moreover, where could she get such an idea from? This must have happened before she started elementary school, or shortly afterwards. Her grandmother still lived in the old house, with a dark, mysterious attic, and a kitchen in the middle of the house. There were two doors in the kitchen. Or three, if you include the entrance. The door on the right led to the cellar. The door on the left led to a room. It was a kind of sleeping room; quite narrow, with two beds placed one after another in such a way that the top part of one almost touched the end of the other. The beds were covered with blankets – or maybe they were not covered at all, with the numerous huge pillows and quilts put on them instead. In the corner there was a big high stove. Was it green? At that time, it was not being used; she feels it was summer and there was no need for heating. There was a window (or maybe two windows?) on the wall opposite the beds. It did not allow too much light, as it was small and almost completely covered with grapevine climbing up the exterior wall. Were there any grapes ripe on that day? She does not know. All she knows is the darkish narrow room with two beds placed one after another, her lying on the one closer to the door, on her back, with her feet directed towards the door; and her five years older male cousin bending over her – or maybe lying on her – and kissing her lips. She doesn’t know what had happened before. She cannot recall the moment when he entered the room. Or did they enter it together? The thought that she might have been sleeping and he woke her up keeps on coming back to her, so maybe she indeed was sleeping. She remembers the sense of surprise, the unknown and the unimaginable materializing. She doesn’t remember doing anything, or whether either of them said anything. Did he touch her? Did she touch him? How did this end? There is nothing in her memory, not even her cousin’s face, just his silhouette right over her. There is only the subtle warm darkness of the room.