Fräulein



My steps were silent on carpet covered stairs. Without knocking I entered his room. He was sitting at a small desk, facing a wall, writing in darkness. He stood up, his eyes widening in surprise. Uninvited I sat on a chair in front of a dressing table, catching my reflection in a mirror. A long black dress I wore made my face look pale. We talked … or did we? … I can't remember.
»Fräulein …« he said.
How inappropriate … It appeared he did not know how to call me.
I left with the word Fräulein echoing in my mind as I descended the stairs. Right before I opened the door leading into cool evening air, I heard it again. He hurried after me. As I ran across a wet square, dusk was thickening. The evening smelled of rain and fallen leaves. Once in my room, I turned the light on and then almost immediately turned it off. I was watching him through lacy curtains. He ran to the square, calling me, shouting only one word. My name …

Včasih se mi zdi, da sanjam v angleščini, čeprav se besed in pogovorov po navadi ne spominjam. Sem in tja kakšna beseda ostane … nelogična in čudaška, tokrat celo nemška. Zaradi nje postanejo dogodki oprijemljivi, na meji resničnega. 

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