I swear to you, I didn't see it coming. The day was peaceful, there was no rain at the beginning. I packed and left relaxed. Everything was going to be all right. I was going on holidays. The city glimmered inviting, bewitching.
The street was busy with the early commuters. I had the radio on. It kept me awake. I arrived at work just in time. It was my last day. Said hello to the recepcionist, got into the lift, pressed floor 9th. It took a little longer than usual. When the doors opened, I stumbled and hit my left hand rather hard. I went to my desk and put ice on it. The woman came around laughing, stopped next to my chair, bent down and carefully spat on my left ear. She looked into my eyes and muttered: human error, then she turned around and left. By the time I recovered, she was long gone.
Nobody knew her, nobody had seen her. I checked the cctv, but there was no clear footage. I left work, moved cities, started a family, all the usual stuff. Last summer a friend gave me a painting for my birthday. I recognised her. I asked about the artist and my friend told that she died ten years ago. She was a little known painter. They were not sure where she came from. She appeared after the last war, lived in a modest house painting and drawing. She sometimes showed in the local artist's fair.