Wulf dropped me off at the metro station, saying goodbye:

- Shall we call? - word-slap. He never asked that.

- We'll call you sometime. - She answered, getting out of the car, noting, not without pleasure, how the expression on his face changed due to the unexpected response.

Five days passed in a blur. Wulf never called or wrote a word. I was cortisolized with such force that my arms and legs were taken away. I knew it would be bad, but I couldn't even imagine what it was. I painted in the evenings. I was addicted to dry white wine, which is completely unusual for me, but otherwise...