_________________________________________________now in english
I don't know why I checked the mail that day. I opened the mailbox and a slip of paper floated through the air, almost drifting in the light coming through the building's lobby door. Ministarstvo unutarnjih poslova. Policijska uprava splitsko-dalmatinska.
The Police.
I dropped my heavy purse, the kindergarten backpack, the grocery bags, and took Lana by the hand across the street to the post office. We reached the corner and she refused to walk any further. The sun burned my feet. The address was clear, but I never fully understand anything. We renewed our visa a couple of months ago; maybe it was a new confirmation.
The Temporary Residence.
With Lana in my arms, I walked toward the escalator. It was 4 in the afternoon and there was no one around. Between the heat, the fatigue, and the uncertainty, I looked up. For a few seconds, I saw my grandfather. Then I realized it wasn't him. But it was. It's been almost three weeks since he could be wherever he wants. I felt secure, and I knew.
The Citizenship.
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