Brass

Wednesday, 30 January 2019

The snow has gone again today, the white roses on the small brass monuments are still there, where they were yesterday.

Dolores is at the bus shelter, sitting on the bench in her usual place. She smiles. There is a thin crescent moon over the small town, and the usual cars speeding down the main road. Their drivers are possibly going to work in an early shift in one of the local car plants.

Punctually, the bus arrives, Dolores gets up and moves over to the bus, bowed, slightly shambling.

She is not the youngest, maybe she had to work hard the night before, maybe she is still half

asleep.

At the railway station, the smoker is standing in the square marked out in yellow road paint.

It is the area before the station entrance where smoking, is permitted. It has an ashtray on a pedestal in the middle of the area, the ashtray has a roof

over it. The whole lot is made up out of stainless steel.

The young woman Andrea is serving in the cafe at the station. The coffee in hand go to the platform, and wait for the early train, the one that goes to Munich airport eventually.