I turned to find Karl watching me, his gaze warm and affectionate, full of admiration.
Friedrich’s expression was more of an assessment. “Well,” he said as he set his glass down. “Karl said you were one of his most gifted students. You clearly haven’t lost it.”
I smiled. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
Karl smiled too. “It was never about whether he’d ‘lost it’,” he said. “It’s in there.” He tapped his chest lightly. “It always was.”
I let out a quiet breath.
“You chose that piece for a reason,” Karl added, his gaze steady on mine.
I hesitated before replying. “Yes.”
Karl nodded. “It suits you. Especially now.”
I frowned. “What do you mean?”
Karl’s expression softened. “It’s a piece that doesn’t force anything. It allows space. It lets things unfold in their own time.”
My chest tightened.
Friedrich gave a small, thoughtful hum. “And it requires restraint,” he added. “Control. Knowing when not to push.”
Karl glanced at him with a faint smile, then looked back at me. “You played it beautifully.” The praise didn’t feel effusive.
“Thank you.”
Then he leaned back, studying me in that quiet, perceptive way of his. “For what it’s worth, I think you chose exactly the right piece.”
I had the distinct impression he wasn’t talking about the music.
Stefan
That evening, the city felt different, alive in a way I couldn’t quite place.
I made my way toPrinzknecht, the familiar bar already busy despite the early hour. Leather was on show everywhere: harnesses, boots, jackets worn soft with age. Laughter and music filled the air, but beneath it all was the low, steady hum of anticipation.
Folsom was almost upon us.
I spotted Dieter sitting outside with a group of friends, and he raised his hand in greeting. I made my way over, and was greeted with handshakes and claps on the shoulder.
“You made it back,” Dieter said with a grin.
“Just in time,” I replied. Someone placed a drink in my hand without me saying a word. I thanked them, then gazed at the men around me.
“Make the most of it.” Dieter’s eyes sparkled. “You won’t be able to move around here by Thursday. They’ve already started arriving. I’ve heard French, Spanish, Italian, American…”
I snorted. “You keep telling meyou’reAmerican.” Dieter’s accent was pure German, raw and rough. “And when do you flee Berlin for the call of Fort Lauderdale?”
He laughed. “Before the Big Dark gets here.”
He wasn’t alone in that feeling. Many of my friends escaped as soon as Halloween was over. Berlin was a dark, grisly month in November, and it only got worse as winter wore on. It wasn’t simply the lack of sunlight, but also the lack of intensity. Berlin was a grey, overcast city until February had come and gone.
I drank, and around me the bar pulsed with energy. Soon there would be men from all over the world, drawn here for the same reasons.
It was a world I knew well, a world I belonged to.
Then my mind flickered back to the station that morning. To the slightly lost bear of an Englishman who’d watched everything as if it might mean something.