Albert Camus. Plague (№ 148258)

In the evening appointments that Rie was expecting a guest and looked at his mother, sitting primly on a chair in the far corner of the dining room. It is here, in this place, she finished with the chores on the farm, spending all her free time. Hands folded in her lap, she waited. Rie wasn't even quite sure what she is waiting for him. But when he entered the room, the mother's face changed. All that long work life was reduced to silence, it seemed that at once it came alive. But then she again plunged into silence. This evening she looked out the window at the already empty street. Street lighting has been reduced by two thirds. Only rare and weak light still pierced the darkness of the night.