A truck

Dolores is in the bus shelter, still dressed in her drab clothes despite the warmer weather. The bog cotton man is dressed in light clothing today, a bright pair of trousers in white, and a pale jacket. Even though it is still dark, it is not cold. The street lights reflect in the black water of the river ISAR, and the traffic on the main road is heavy, with many big tracks on their way to start the days deliveries.

The bus arrives, board after letting the others go first, and pay the driver his one Euro and twenty cents. For the fare, for the five minutes to the railway station.

At the station, let a woman in a hurry out first, and walk across the station forecourt, past the bicycles, hundreds of them, and the smoker with his rucksack. Wish the pigtailed smoker a good morning, the man is standing at the ashtray. Maybe this is his first clgarette of the day.

In the cafe, there is the bald man with the beard, dealing with multiple customers all at once. slip past the crowd, to the end of the counter, and the end of the queue.

Andrea of the dark rimmed glasses, a short girl, well built, comes out at the kitchen, looks up, and asks "grosse Kaffee?" she has a light accent, she is friend, too. An accent from some Balkan country.

. Tahe the coffee to the deserted waiting room, and sip from the paper cup

At six, hear the squeal of the brakes and the sudden exhalation of compressed air as-the small Diesel train from Rosenheim arrives..