***

– I'm impressed, Miss Mroczek. You should open an independent exhibition for your photos," said editor-in-chief Bernard Attick. He looked very impressive.

We were sitting in his large office, bright from the four large desk lamps, tastefully furnished but slightly dishevelled. The editor's black wooden desk was cluttered with dozens of folders, an open notebook, many sheets of paper, letters, and a small white coffee cup lurking on the very edge. One wrong elbow movement and it would fall to the bare parquet and crumble to pieces. But the editor-in-chief seemed so accustomed to having that particular cup in exactly the right place that I wasn't worried about its safety.

Mr. Attick was a professional. And I respected him. I respect very few people. But his sense of smell and flair and taste were beyond reproach. It's true he had a funny last name. But it's kind of cute.

– Isn't it? – I said modestly, knowing exactly why he was so impressed.

– Yes… Your photos… I've never seen anything like them. And you do modelling, don't you? – Bernard looked at my photos for the second time. – This one. It's magical.

I looked at the photo: Oh, yes, a random shot in a little cafe in Liverpool. A little boy is discreetly feeding a fat, short-legged dog a boiled sausage while the boy's mother sits at a table, concentrating on her mascara. The woman's mouth is wide open, as if it were aiding her in her occupation. Black and white photograph. Early 2000s.

– Nice, very nice. So what do you reckon? – Bernard muttered, still contemplating every detail of the photograph.

– To what? – I asked, waiting patiently for Mr. Editor-in-Chief's excitement to subside and his brain to start working.

– The exhibition.

– You're not kidding? – I marvelled. What a twist! My own exhibition in London!

– Your work is damn good, Miss Mroczek, and I don't want you to go looking for recognition in another magazine.

– I'm all yours, Mr. Attick," I said jokingly. – In what time frame?

– For now, our gallery is busy with Najada Olivecka's exhibition. Fathers and children. Are you familiar with her work?

– You bet! As far as I know, she's recognised as the most influential photographer in Eastern Europe.

– Her exhibition ends in a fortnight. It'll take about a week to organise yours.

– That's a three-week wait. That's not so bad!

– But I need to show your work to our sponsor. He'll have the final say," Mr. Attick said suddenly.

I grinned. Shit. It's always like this – just when you're excited, your joy is killed with just one sentence.

– Who's your sponsor? – I asked. – The same one who sponsors Najada Olivecka? Then he has excellent taste. By the way, can you tell me where I can meet Najada herself… – And at that moment my smartphone rang loudly in my purse. – Damn, I'm sorry. – I took the smartphone out of my bag. – I'll just be a minute, it's an important call.

– Don't trouble yourself, Miss Mroczek," Mr. Attick smiled benignly.

I smiled back and went out into the corridor.

– Yes, Mum, hi," I said quietly into the phone. – I'm busy right now, is it an emergency?

– Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to bother you. It's just that you haven't been calling, and I want to know how my girl is doing.

– Your girl's business couldn't be better. I'm in London and the editor-in-chief of Colour world wants to put on an exhibition of my work! – I said with a note of happiness in my voice.

– Oh, that's great! Congratulations! When? Me and my dad will definitely fly down for the opening!

– That's great. But let's talk later. I'll call you back when I'm free.