Leave the cafe, an old couple needed the seating, the man is ill. He is using crutches, he can barely walk. He starts to talk, asking if the place at the high tables with the high upholstered stools is free. Of course it is , there are three places free. His wife wants to sit down at a table, she does not seem to realise that not having to sit at a low table is a relief to her husband. He tells me that he used to work hard, often twelve hours a day, bending steel for concrete reinforcement.
And now he has Parkinsons disease as well.
He is an old man.
They are an old couple.
Finish the coffee fast.
Go
Let them sit together.
Cross the road, go down the side street, to one of the last remaining bakeries in Landshut that actually bake their own bread.
Buy a baguette.
The woman is new to the electronic cash register.
Everything takes ages, the woman is no longer young.
It is good of the firm to employ older people.
Give the exact money.
Take the baguette home.
It is bad,
more air than anything, a hard thick panzer crust around a woolly mass.
This is not a baguette
It is a long brötchen.
yuck.
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