The family all come together once every month. The women with the children meet in the afternoon.
Coffee is drunk. The children are sent away. The should play. They must not hear everything.
But the women whisper. Their faces show concern. They are speaking of someone who is very sick.
At twilight they tell stories about ghosts and miraculous cures. They become frightened. They call the children. They press the children to their breasts.
Then fruit is eaten.
The men come. Conversations about hair styles, about business. And so on. The conversation moves haltingly. Suddenly stops, like a defective clock. Fear that it will stop entirely. A young girl blushes-But at one point everything is still. It feels suffocating. It feels unsafe, like in a swing, helpless, like in a slide… it feels ridiculous. One hears something like the wind sweeping across the roofs. Rain beats against the grey windows.
Still silence.
There-Is it really so bad… with him—how should it turn out…
People avoid each other's eyes.
Leopold Lehmann
I am an employee of a bank. Because I have no patron, and I am not especially hard-working, I am not getting ahead. For more than 30 years I have been shifting the same kind of papers around in the same department. For this reason I am considered conscientious.