Berta had been a bitch who had died of old age not long ago, the companion of his childhood. And he felt slightly embarrassed that he loved himself. And it was just at that time that he experienced great happiness. Then he fell asleep. At peace, as never in the course of the day.
Cries rang out from the merchants selling candy, soda water, ice cream, and pretzels.
The boy was silent. He knew they wouldn't allow him to drink water from a station vendor. The boy's mother believed in microbes. He believed in nothing except God and love. Most of all he liked Sunday afternoons, which, for as long as he could remember, he had spent at his grandmother's.