He did not know where he was. He sensed the presence of a mighty power. Maybe this was his ruin.
He was 70 years old and certainly not the kind of person who was said to have an enthusiasm for the mystical or mysterious. On the contrary, his appearance suggests his sober nature in this meticulously attired, wrinkled body. He wore his hair parted neatly, his trousers, shirt, shoes, all clean and in various shades of gray. If one had asked his old circle of acquaintances about his person, one would have learned that it was precisely his orderly and clearly structured, almost analytically cold way, that distinguished him from his fellow human beings and gave him their respect. Yet he had no one to trust. Over the years, he had alienated more and more from his environment. Had he himself been questioned, he would have said that this development was the consequence of his intent to always speak and act sincerely.
His wife had already left the marriage bed and moved into a separate room. He did not know how many years had passed since then. Tender touches, such as a fleeting embrace, only existed when the boys were there, but that only happened on public holidays anyway. A birthday kiss on the cheek 5 years ago was the last tenderness he could remember. He even remembered this kiss very clearly. Lena had grabbed him by the back of his head with a single hand and then pressed her chapped lips against his cheek in a totally dispassionate and mechanical way, slightly rubbing it on his cheek. Although this affection was only a remnant of her devouring love, it had done him good, for it had been around the time of that birthday when Fritz began to notice a nascent discomfort, a restlessness, an oppressive burden of worry.

Thank you for reading my post. If you prefere to read the German original story you can find it here.

Lots of Light and Love <3