time to sit beside her and wait. We got on well. She was pretty, prettier than her photo.’
Moritz rubbed his eyes, his cheeks, his scalp as if he were terribly tired, barely able to speak. When he was done, he looked at Mia.
‘I was sitting beside a dead body, and I felt close to her, closer than I’d ever felt to anyone. We had so much in common, more than just love. We shared her death.’
He held out his hand and Mia took it.
‘Do you think I’m crazy?’
‘The world is crazy,’ said Mia, ‘not you.’
For a while they listened to the emptiness filling the room. Then Mia took a deep breath.
‘You were at the police station … What did they want?’
Moritz started to answer; then he paused, a wave of astonishment rippling over his face. He pulled away his hand.
‘Why?’
‘It’s important.’
‘What, in
your
opinion, would the police want with me?’
‘Don’t be silly, this isn’t about what
I
think.’
‘Mia Holl, were you even listening to me?’
‘Why were you there?’
‘I found the body, Mia. Don’t you get it? I’m a witness. The police wanted a witness statement. Seems logical, or isn’t it logical enough for you?’
‘Moritz!’
‘You’re my sister. You said you’d believe me.’
They got up quickly. Mia ran after him as he hurried to the door. His back was a glyph of anger and despair.
‘I’m sorry,’ called Mia. ‘I’m just worried about you. You know what I’m like. Always worrying. You know you can always talk to me! You can sleep here if you like!’
But Moritz was gone.
‘This is your home as well, Moritz,’ said Mia to the closed door. ‘I’m your home.’
Our Home
MIA STILL HAS her ear to the door and is whispering something about Moritz and it being his home and how it was all a mistake, when the doorbell rings again: shriek, shriek. When Mia throws open the door, it isn’t night any more, it’s broad daylight, and Moritz isn’t standing in front of her; it’s the Present, this time in triplicate. All three are wearing hygiene masks; two retreat onto the landing to create more distance between themselves and Frau Holl.
‘Mia,’ says the one who hasn’t moved, ‘I didn’t want to come.’
‘Driss,’ says Pollie, ‘we agreed to stick together.’
‘No, we didn’t,’ says Driss. To Mia she says, ‘They forced me.’
‘Let me do the talking,’ says Lizzie. ‘Good morning, Frau Holl.’
‘Good morning,’ says Mia. Her voice is immeasurably weary. She can guess what the neighbourly deputation is going to ask her. She would have slammed the door already if it weren’t for Driss’s eyes: two round mirrors of devotion, gazing out above her mask. Driss’s eyes are an addiction. Besides, Mia would like to know exactly which part of the story has prompted her neighbours to make their visit now.
‘It’s a great photo,’ says Driss. ‘You look lovely! You made the front page!’ She reaches for the newspaper, but Pollie whisks it away.
‘There’s a photo of me in
The Healthy Mind
?’ Mia extends a hand, causing Lizzie and Pollie to take another step backwards.
‘More importantly,’ says Lizze, ‘
this
arrived today.’ She pulls a letter from her tabard and holds it up with both hands. From the look on her face, it could easily be a message from the Almighty, except God, of course, is dead. ‘Date, dear Frau so-and-so, with regard to, and so forth. Listen to this: “It has come to our attention that a resident of your block has been convicted for breaching the Health Code. Infractions of this nature may prejudice your status as a monitored household and will be taken into consideration when you apply to renew your licence next year.”’
‘Who cares about the letter?’ says Driss. ‘The article is great. It was written by your friend. Do you think he’ll call again soon?’
‘
I
care about the letter,’ says Pollie from behind Lizzie. ‘You’re not the only one who lives here, Frau
Moritz rubbed his eyes, his cheeks, his scalp as if he were terribly tired, barely able to speak. When he was done, he looked at Mia.
‘I was sitting beside a dead body, and I felt close to her, closer than I’d ever felt to anyone. We had so much in common, more than just love. We shared her death.’
He held out his hand and Mia took it.
‘Do you think I’m crazy?’
‘The world is crazy,’ said Mia, ‘not you.’
For a while they listened to the emptiness filling the room. Then Mia took a deep breath.
‘You were at the police station … What did they want?’
Moritz started to answer; then he paused, a wave of astonishment rippling over his face. He pulled away his hand.
‘Why?’
‘It’s important.’
‘What, in
your
opinion, would the police want with me?’
‘Don’t be silly, this isn’t about what
I
think.’
‘Mia Holl, were you even listening to me?’
‘Why were you there?’
‘I found the body, Mia. Don’t you get it? I’m a witness. The police wanted a witness statement. Seems logical, or isn’t it logical enough for you?’
‘Moritz!’
‘You’re my sister. You said you’d believe me.’
They got up quickly. Mia ran after him as he hurried to the door. His back was a glyph of anger and despair.
‘I’m sorry,’ called Mia. ‘I’m just worried about you. You know what I’m like. Always worrying. You know you can always talk to me! You can sleep here if you like!’
But Moritz was gone.
‘This is your home as well, Moritz,’ said Mia to the closed door. ‘I’m your home.’
Our Home
MIA STILL HAS her ear to the door and is whispering something about Moritz and it being his home and how it was all a mistake, when the doorbell rings again: shriek, shriek. When Mia throws open the door, it isn’t night any more, it’s broad daylight, and Moritz isn’t standing in front of her; it’s the Present, this time in triplicate. All three are wearing hygiene masks; two retreat onto the landing to create more distance between themselves and Frau Holl.
‘Mia,’ says the one who hasn’t moved, ‘I didn’t want to come.’
‘Driss,’ says Pollie, ‘we agreed to stick together.’
‘No, we didn’t,’ says Driss. To Mia she says, ‘They forced me.’
‘Let me do the talking,’ says Lizzie. ‘Good morning, Frau Holl.’
‘Good morning,’ says Mia. Her voice is immeasurably weary. She can guess what the neighbourly deputation is going to ask her. She would have slammed the door already if it weren’t for Driss’s eyes: two round mirrors of devotion, gazing out above her mask. Driss’s eyes are an addiction. Besides, Mia would like to know exactly which part of the story has prompted her neighbours to make their visit now.
‘It’s a great photo,’ says Driss. ‘You look lovely! You made the front page!’ She reaches for the newspaper, but Pollie whisks it away.
‘There’s a photo of me in
The Healthy Mind
?’ Mia extends a hand, causing Lizzie and Pollie to take another step backwards.
‘More importantly,’ says Lizze, ‘
this
arrived today.’ She pulls a letter from her tabard and holds it up with both hands. From the look on her face, it could easily be a message from the Almighty, except God, of course, is dead. ‘Date, dear Frau so-and-so, with regard to, and so forth. Listen to this: “It has come to our attention that a resident of your block has been convicted for breaching the Health Code. Infractions of this nature may prejudice your status as a monitored household and will be taken into consideration when you apply to renew your licence next year.”’
‘Who cares about the letter?’ says Driss. ‘The article is great. It was written by your friend. Do you think he’ll call again soon?’
‘
I
care about the letter,’ says Pollie from behind Lizzie. ‘You’re not the only one who lives here, Frau
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