“Angels probably fall asleep sometimes. Or they get distracted by other things. Or perhaps there are simply careless ones. One way or another, on Holy Saturday a terrible misfortune happened: a very old lady - seventy-five years old - was standing in a thick line at a bus stop with a neat bag in which Easter cake and Easter were packed, and was waiting for the bus. She was the daughter of a famous Russian poet of the Silver Age, the widow of a famous artist, the mother of many children, grandmother and even great-grandmother of a large brood of young animals. A huge circle of her friends and admirers called her NK - by initials..."