The novelist who never recognized her
On his forty-first birthday, the Viennese writer R. receives a letter from a woman who is dying. She fell in love with him at thirteen, when he moved into the flat across from hers. Years later she slept with him over three nights, and later still, working as a courtesan, she spent another night with him, and he never once recognized her; she bore his son alone and raised him in secret. The child has just died of influenza, and she dies before the letter arrives. R. is left with only a vague memory of her and the white roses she sent anonymously every birthday.
