The boarding house's owner rented the shabby couch in the living room.

For an entire winter, Monday thru Friday, a middle-aged lady arrived at exactly 6:35 in the evening and left at exactly 6:35 the next morning.

A frail-looking woman, she carried a large briefcase in her right hand. Under its weight, complacent, she bent to the right side as well. Her grip was tight, strong, alert, as if a laconic submission sigh.

Pale and demure, she seemed to lack internal light; we never heard her voice, or her laughter. Her clothing was simple: a dark blue coat with ample shoulder pads.

"She is an accountant," the housekeeper whispered to the guests, and, with a note of pride or pity in her voice, she then added, "She carries the books of a big enterprise."

It was the early 80's. Sean Connery's James Bond was a cultural icon, and I just loved the actor and the character he played. From the top of the stairs, I used to watch the lady's arrival while wondering about her life. Was she a dedicated accountant, or a sinister cold spy carrying a bomb that could destroy our world...?

Time went by. I graduated and got a good job in a far-away city. Life continued smoothly.
One winter night, however, the memory of this mystery lady tiptoed into my mind, it took hold and impelled me to write about her.

Dear readers, I hope you like it.

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