Zarginants Atanes wakes up at the crack of dawn. The first thing he does is lean awkwardly over the edge of the bed to turn off his alarm clock so its unceremonious and annoying chiming does not wake up his sleeping son. Then he opens the window, climbs back under his blanket, and lies with his eyes closed, taking in the sounds of Berd as it stirs itself awake…. The neighbor’s rooster, perched on top of the fence, is crowing its heart out. Atanes smiles as he remembers a recent episode: The rooster roamed the veranda, his claws clicking against the floorboards and his yellow eyes covetously trained on the trays of freshly roasted wheat laid out to cool. It wasn’t that the rooster pecked at it – he was no fool to burn himself on scalding grains, but he looked disgruntled and even menacing. The sight of him sent Levon into peals of gurgling, quiet laughter: “Dad, look, Dad, Peto!”

To Levon, all roosters are Peto. 

All dogs – Sevo.

All horses – Chalo.

All people – Person. That’s exactly what he says: Person came, Person left. Only about one woman he says: Gentle Person came. Pretty, he adds.

Everyone is entitled to his own idea of beauty, and even then, it evolves considerably over the course of one’s lifetime. But for Levon, it is as constant as it is certain – a pretty person is whoever brings him a sweet treat. That’s why Poghosants Anichka is a Pretty Person. After all, she often brings him baghardj, which she makes with thick cream instead of water, flouting the traditional recipe, and layers it with roasted almonds.

Read the story, from To Go On Living, out this week.