the dark under the arch

21st of December 2017

get out of the house early, the cobbled alley is deserted, the light from the electric lanterns reflects from the matt surface of the dry basalt. cross the square in front of the church, the silent huts on the main street. Last night there were queue of people standing in front of each of these huts, grilled sausages and mulled wine. Now the stalls are closed, the tables folded up. Nobody needs sausages at five in the morning.
Reach the bus stop, look back at the town gate, there is Dolores coming around the corner. She walks through the pool of the light pouring out of the bakery, and enters the dark under the arch. The traffic passes on the main road, impersonal cars and lorries, trucks and busses. The traffic is fast and thin, it is early, these are the early work goers, the early shift in factories, start at six.
Dolores arrives at the bus stop, a good morning, the bog cotton man arrives, and then finally the teachman. Board the bus last, have the change ready, the driver says thank you and thank in in return for the ticket.
There is an elderly women in the bus, a hoarse coarse voice, starts to talk about holidays. She is difficult to understand, but agree anyway, nah. She seems satisfied
The cafe, the dark haired women in the blue uniforms with the sharp voices. Money, stamp, put the machine on, deal with the next customer, hand over the coffee, danke bitte.
Collect a plastic lid, go to the waiting room, sit. The fussy man has artready dropped his jacket over a seat, a reservation, he is now ordering a coffee. He has a high voice, it sounds as if there is a lot of air pressure behind it.

Then look at the watch, see that it has stopped. Look over the railway tracks, see tht the Munich train is in already. The little train from Rosenheim is not there. Hurry now, it would be silly to miss the train. just like that. In the passageway below the tracks there is a man beating the glass out of the frame of one of the advertising showcases. The glass is toughened, it breaks into small grains, it does not splinter. The man works for the advertising firm, he is not some stray vandal. The glass has sprayed the width at the corridor, it crunches underfoot.
Board the train at the top of the stairs, sit down at a free seat, a free table-

It is only a few days until Christmas, and the carriage is quite empty. So many are on holidays already.