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Women At His Side

I get into downtown Munich and am exhausted. The passenger seat is empty.

But, wasn't she was sitting next to me in the Achental valley? The seat belt snug between her breasts. Her body was so warm. Before we reached Tölz, I told her about my time in the army. She listened silently; her hair was dark. By the time I reached Geretsried she was blonde, and I told her about Romania, where I was sent on a construction job for a Geretsried company. Later, even her voice changed somehow. After we passed Strasslach I showed her the place where the terrorist attack had taken place.

I park the car and touch her seat. It's cold. Where are the breasts, the hair, the voices? My floor mat is caked with mud, and there's blood on the steering wheel. I try to remember.

Story by:

Rupprecht Mayer

3 June 2015