the car
Long weekend (Pfingsten, Karneval der Kulturen in Kreuzberg, the whole city dancing). I didn't go.
There's a car parked opposite my building. Dark grey Škoda Octavia, older model, Berlin plates. It's been there three nights in a row. In the evening someone sits in it. In the morning it's empty. Parking here is impossible; nobody gets the same spot three nights running.
I told Hanna. She said: "It's understandable to feel anxious after such an intense few weeks. Is there someone you can talk to?"
I'm talking to you, I said.
Taking a photo of the plate would make me a crazy person. I've written it down.