All The Names - Jose Saramago

only held in place by four little cardboard corners, Here you are, take it, she said, it's the only one I have
of her, just don't ask me if I've got any photographs of the parents, I won't. Senhor José held out a
tremulous hand and received a black-and-white photo of a girl of eight or nine, a small, thin, probably
pale face, serious eyes beneath eyebrow-length bangs, a mouth trying to smile but failing, and fixed like
that. Senhor José, being a sensitive soul, felt his own eyes fill with tears, No one would think you worked
for the Central Registry, said the woman, Well, I do, he said, Would you like a cup of coffee, That would
be very nice.
They didn't talk much while they were drinking their coffee and nibbling biscuits, just a few words
about how quickly cruel time passed, It passes and we don't even notice, It was morning only a moment
ago and now it's nearly dark, in fact, the afternoon was drawing to a close, but perhaps they were talking
about life, about their lives, about life in general, that's what happens when we listen to a conversation
and don't pay attention, the most important things always escape us. The coffee was finished, the words
were finished, Senhor José got up and said, I must be going, thank you for the photograph and the address
of the school, the woman said, Well, if you're ever passing this way again, then she accompanied him to
the door, he held out his hand, and said, Thank you very much, and like a gentleman from another age, he
raised her hand to his lips, it was then that the woman smiled mischievously and said, It might be a good
idea to try looking her up in the phone book.