"You know, if I were a writer, I'd try my hand at this fantastical story: My hero meets a girl, a charming creature not yet eighteen. Fine. They fall in live. Have children. The years go by. Their love remains what it was: strong, good, simple. By now he has asthma, she has crow's feet and withered skin. But they are as dear as ever to each other. Then one day the door opens and in she walks, only she is not she, not who she was an hour or a day ago, but the seventeen-year-old girl he vowed always to love. My hero is perplexed and, I suppose, stunned. The visitant looks round in bewilderment at this strange, middle-aged life. At the children she has not yet borne. At the heavy, half-familiar man glancing nervously at the door to the next room: What if the other woman, the same woman, should walk in? 'Yesterday you promised me,' says the young creature. The asthmatic scratches his head, distraught: 'yesterday'--that was twenty years ago. He doesn't understand and doesn't know what to do with his guest. Suddenly, he hears footsteps--it's the other woman, the same woman now." - Sigizmund Krzhizhanovsky, "In the Pupil"
What a lesser writer would have spun into a 5000 word story, Krzhizhanovsky puts into the mouth of a character as a parable that the character himself barely understands.