I blinked. “Can you run that by me again? In English, this time?”
He stroked his beard. “Okay, what about… a homeowner is fixing a tile on his roof and ends up going through the roof and causing massive amounts of damage.” His face brightened. “Here’s an actual example. The government in India attempted to reduce its cobra population by offering a reward for dead snakes. But what happened was that people starting breeding cobras, then killed them to claim the reward—thus increasing the number of cobras in the country.”
“So Germans have one word to describe when someone tries to improve something but actually ends up making it worse?” I rolled my eyes. “I think I’ll stick with ‘I have a pencil.’”
“Very wise.” Stefan smiled. “I’ll teach you some useful words at some point.”
I chuckled. “I can’t wait.”
By the time we reached the exit, the light had shifted. The afternoon had softened into early evening, the edges of the day blurring into something warmer, its pace slower.
I paused outside the gates, glancing around as if orientating myself again.
“That was…” I began, then stopped.
“Better than you expected?” Stefan suggested.
I smiled. “Yes. Exactly that.”
Stefan watched me for a moment, his expression thoughtful. “I’m glad.”
Silence settled between us, not awkward but more… open.
This day could end right here.
It probably should.
I looked him in the eye. “Thank you for showing me around.”
Stefan inclined his head slightly. “You’re welcome.” He paused, and I was overwhelmed with the sense that this moment was about to close.
“Would you like to join me for a drink?” Stefan asked. His tone was casual.
That wasn’t how it made me feel.
I could say no.I could go back to the apartment and have dinner with Karl, let the day settle into something simple, contained.
Sensible.
Instead, I heard myself say, “Yes.”
Stefan smiled.
“There’s a place not far from here,” he said. “Hildegard Bar. It’s quiet, and they make good cocktails.”
“Lead the way,” I said.
Before I change my mind.
The bar was dimly lit, the shift from daylight immediate and almost disorientating. The ceiling was impressive, a curved structure made of wooden joists. Lamps sat on tables, their hemispherical marbled shades resembling some kind of translucent egg. Music played quietly, and voices were low. It was the sort of place where people leaned closer without realising they were doing it.
We found a small table near the back, close enough for conversation without raising our voices.
Too close, perhaps.
“What would you like?” Stefan asked.
“I’ll trust your judgment.”