ساعت دوازده و نیم رسید ایستگاه راه‌آهنِ مرکزیِ فرانکفورت. زودترین بلیت قطار رو برایِ پراگ خرید. واردِ استار‌باکسِ کنارِ ایستگاه شد. کوله‌پشتیِ سنگینش رو کنار یه میز خالی گذاشت و یه اِمِریکانویِ بزرگ سفارش داد. از دخترکِ پشتِ پیشخون که چشم‌هایِ آبیِ درشتی داشت، پرسید:
–تو اینجا زندگی می‌کنی؟
12:45
At 12:30 PM, the train pulled into Frankfurt Central Station. The first thing he did was buy the earliest ticket to Prague. With several hours to spare, the Starbucks near the station caught his eye. Inside, the heavy backpack slid off his shoulders onto the floor beside an empty table. A large Americano seemed like the perfect companion for the wait.
The girl behind the counter, with striking blue eyes, handed over the cup.
“Do you live here?” he asked, curiosity outweighing small talk.
A brief glance from her was followed by a reply. “I’m from the East—Saxony, near the border. But I’ve lived here a few years. Why?”
“The train to Prague leaves at 5 PM. This might be the only time I ever visit Frankfurt. If I had to see just one place, what would you suggest?”
“That’s a tough one…” Her gaze lingered for a moment, considering. Handing a drink to another customer, she leaned closer. “My shift ends at one. I could take you somewhere worth seeing, if you’d like.”
* * *
Except for one time, years later, when they went to Dresden together for her father’s funeral, he never left Frankfurt for the rest of his life.
