During the day, she chose the cool floor by the bed, exactly where the woman walked barefoot, and lay there for hours, moving only the tip of her tail slightly, her gaze fixed on the spot where the human chest rose and fell.

And then – the muted “hugs”: the snake would slither toward her throat and linger under the collarbone, touching the skin with her forked tongue. The woman joked that it was a kiss. But more and more often she woke up at night – from the weight pressing on her chest.