Bezpłatny fragment - The Last Match

The Circus

A new day is an undiscovered adventure. Sometimes joy arrives, other times gloom. Each moment brings a lesson for the next morning. Character takes shape by choice — through the attitude brought to each challenge, the moment a “yes” is given to life, or when “enough” is declared.

Understanding the world comes with time. Every event — whether witnessed in silence or lived through directly — expands awareness, though the world seldom greets newcomers with bags full of sweets and affection.

The wise, the rich, the famous and great may cross one’s path — but so do fools, the disabled, and paupers.

Will minds stretch to catch glimpses of wisdom? Will a hand extend to help in hard times?

Or will narrowed thoughts and covered eyes abandon such chances, curse in silence, end the pursuit of understanding, and slip into a life of blissful banality?

Life is fragile, short, fleeting. Time slips away in bitterness, regret, and chasing what was lost long ago.

Better to walk forward, remember the good souls met along the way, use each lesson wisely, and laugh at mistakes repeated endlessly through this brief journey.

***

The next day came, just as the one before had done. As expected, it began with waking and… did not end quickly.

Johnny Balwozy opened his eyes, stretched fully, threw off the warm quilt with a wide sweep, and sat at the edge of the bed. Gaze fixed forward, he faced a tall, wide, slanted window. Beyond the glass, a richly blooming spring reigned, blushing in pinks, reds, and violets. The crowns of fruit trees from the neighbor’s garden rose into view.

Feet touched the floor. The window drew him closer. Weather demanded a better look.

The room occupied the attic of a small two-story house, high enough that the slanted glass revealed a stretch of suburban life. Outside, the sun burned bright. Wind gently stirred the foliage. Blossoms swayed. Neighbors lounged on terraces, sipping coffee or tea, enjoying the season’s gift.

Jognny’s house stood on the outskirts of Kraków, a short walk from the nearest tram stop — shorter still when taking narrow paths between homes. That’s the route used for the daily trip to school. Pleasant days made it a stroll. Autumn brought less joy, and winter demanded use of the regularly cleared sidewalks, slightly lengthening the walk.

But this day differed. No school. A holiday — or simply Saturday. What mattered most: freedom. Time meant for play, friends, and doing whatever the heart desired.

And the afternoon held promise. A trip to the city had been planned — with father, brother, and two friends — to Kraków, to the market square bursting with spring attractions. Not far off stood antique shops, which always caught Marcin Balwozy’s attention.

During visits, he walked the boutiques, browsed, lingered by old objects, rarely allowing a purchase. Very rarely — salary and profession did not allow for extravagance. A coffee table from another era, a dated jug or teapot, a carved chair, a medallion for his wife, or a glass-crafted decanter, perfect for summer evenings with family — all tempting, yet mostly admired from afar.

Johnny’s father, a middle-aged man by then, tended toward natural reserve. Happiness didn’t demand much.

Free moments often passed in the garden or at the workbench. Many items around the house came from his hands — cut, drilled, hammered, glued or screwed into shape. One such piece supported the TV, another created extra room for tools and knick-knacks in the small garage below the house.

Even the wardrobe in Johnny’s room bore signs of that handiwork. Johnny liked to boast about helping — passing tools, holding planks. Shelves slid into place under his direction, all except the highest one, out of reach. That one stayed empty, never forcing a climb.

Magdalena Balwozy, a nurse at a hospital in Kraków, worked several hours a day. Long shifts earned longer breaks — though, unfortunately, this day wasn’t one of them. Whether it was a holiday or a Saturday, she had to work.

In moments truly her own, a book opened and pulled her in. Everything was fair game: heavy volumes, poetry, lighter novels.

Before sleep, Johnny wandered to his little brother’s room. Awaited the usual visit. Mother read to them at bedtime. The stories sounded silly — fairy tales for small children — and never got mentioned to any friends. Discovery would’ve meant ridicule.

He never figured out whether the tales themselves appealed, or if it was simply the way she read them that mattered most.

Fully dressed and ready for anything, Johnny came down to the dining room. Empty — unusual. Usually, Dad was already bustling around.

A few steps led into the adjoining kitchen. Breakfast would be handled alone today.

The fridge opened. Yellow cheese came out — Antoś’s favorite, aside from cereal in milk. Two sandwiches got buttered, topped, doused in ketchup.

For Marcin, one sandwich with ham, another with smoked pork shoulder — both ready-sliced, stored neatly in containers.

Johnny crafted a mix for himself: meat, plus a slice with cottage cheese and sugar. Cold cocoa followed for everyone expected at the table.

Cheerful breakfast? Not this time.

First came the argument with Antoś — sandwiches got rejected in favor of cereal. Then, a pointless clash with Marcin. The reason faded fast; the mood did not.

Luckily, Marcin never held grudges or dished out long-term punishments. Despite the scene, the trip to the city remained on schedule. Canceling the outing made no sense. It had been planned as a pleasant time together — and would stay that way.

Albert and Nina, Johnny’s friends, arrived more or less on time.

Albert — always punctual — never showed up late. Usually the first to arrive, having learned that punctuality won adult approval. Sometimes, good manners brought him early, though never more than fifteen minutes. This time, arrival came exactly as agreed.

Nina was a little late, but no one commented — not the boys, not Marcin, not Antoś. After all, the journey was by car, not tram.

Unfortunately, the bad mood didn’t leave.

Grunts answered questions, teasing met curt replies, and even Nina’s cheerful energy failed to lift the gloom. Almost no words were exchanged with him during the trip to the parking lot near Kraków’s Main Square. Letting the anger and bitterness settle seemed the best option.

Once out of the car, city air filled their lungs. Smiles returned. The group set out in search of entertainment.

Only one face stayed dark, body tense, step heavy. No trace of what had caused such discomfort remained, yet the feeling lingered.

Hope clung to the thought that the market’s lively buzz would chase away the sourness. That square never lacked joy.

Reaching it quickly became a quiet wish — but leaving the group behind would have been wrong.

The plan was to enjoy this together. That’s where joy truly lives.

Sidewalks proved too slow. Frustration built. Little Antoś held back the pace. Tiny legs simply couldn’t match older ones.

Rather than snap, effort shifted to kicking stray pebbles — but city paths offered too few.

Finally, sometime after noon, the square came into view.

Street musicians filled the air with sound. Singers performed. A game area stood ready. Scoops of ice cream changed hands. Tents offered shelter and space to eat. As always, a place had been set aside for carriages — rides for tourists wishing to admire Kraków from the street.

Circus folk roamed the square: clowns, acrobats, mimes.

Behind a fence, a tiger rested in a cage.

Despite the crowd, the voices, and the chaos, the tiger paid no mind. It lay still, licking paws and claws with lazy calm.

The suburban five reached the square. At a sign from Marcin, stopped near the edge. A meeting point was chosen, just in case.

Then, off they went to explore.

Attractions came one by one. The tiger’s cage stopped them again. It stood apart, fenced in, accessible only to the handler.

Inside, the animal yawned and stretched. Despite its stillness, it loomed large — especially to young eyes. The bars felt thin, the power behind them vast.

A single swipe could knock someone down like a tower of cards.

Albert watched the handler with admiration. A short, round man with a tangled head of hair, a mustache, a beard, and deep lines across the cheeks. The woolen sweater and leather pants made him look rough, but not threatening. Johnny understood the job’s danger, though it didn’t impress. Being the oldest among the three, he knew what it meant to tame a wild thing.

The magician came out of nowhere. No one had planned to stop, but stopping became inevitable.

She played with fire — making flames vanish — then dazzled the crowd with card tricks.

One trick got exposed. A bystander called it out. Another failed altogether, causing laughter.