Bl

On the weekend, I fetched Gamma from a friend’s house in a nearby village. I have worked out a deal with her whereby if she does not hide from me when I fetch her there, or throw a tantrum, or run away, or anything else that I may deem dramatic, she is allowed to visit again.

It was six in the evening. She met me at the door, along with her friend and their large, black dog.
“No drama, right?” I said to her.
She was sugar and spice. Of course no drama. She began looking for her shoes.
“Oh, I was just making her something to eat,” her friend’s mom said.
“Um, but,” I said.
“Would you still like something to eat?” she asked Gamma.
Meat with rice. It was already in the microwave.
“Coffee?” she asked me.
“Sure,” I said. “Yes, please.”
So we sat around the table while Gamma ate her meat and rice, and I was served coffee.
Amazingly enough, the coffee was made with a machine so I had something to make conversation about.
“So, is that a filter or an espresso machine?” I asked, and the conversational ball was rolling.
“Milk and sugar?” I was asked.
“No thank you,” I said.
“Dad’s on a diet,” Gamma said. “Dad and mom both.”
“Well, actually, I happen to not be on a diet,” I said. “I just never take sugar or…”
“Dad and mom are on the Bl

One response to “Bl

  1. Not only have I read a great little story, but I now have a new German vocabulary word!