snowflakes fluttered gently curved dense as a silk scarf in gentle waves on the balcony on the 5th Floor of a skyscraper over. It was dusk. In the twilight of the street lamps and the leaden sky buzzing with cars were spinning tires on a green traffic light-switching.
Margaret looked out on the Stieben of flakes and down to the park and they had maintained for a long time as a teacher.
past - for decades.
She looked over to the old mill, which still held her frozen, rotten ill-wing in the snow. Every day she had gone there for a walk with her husband and the dog, on endless trails far into the fields.
past - for decades.
Her husband had died, buried her dog for a long time in the former allotments.
The old, very petite woman on the balcony, sighed, stretched her face against the snow Grieseln and stuck out his tongue around like a little kid a few of the flakes to melt it. Resolutely shook them with aged, gout crippled hands a few drops from her cheerful gray-streaked pony and looked down vote on the doings of the hastily hurrying home people. Who had used quickly on to the last hours before the shops are open for Christmas Eve.
Margaret went back inside, through which the cooled living room, down the hall to the kitchen. Due to the wide-open balcony door, took a cold breath of snow and moisture.
The radio-controlled thermometer showed an outside temperature of eight degrees below zero.
"Exactly right," she murmured, "so I thought of this day "
a worn Rattantablett pushed to the dining room table and began to populate: Favorite photos of her two children - long since grown up living with their families in the surrounding countryside - and a picture of her husband on. he was seen with the dog on an autumn walk. From her second-hand with memorabilia, gift wrap, shopping bags and never read books crammed hall closet she pulled out a bottle of good vintage red wine and put them together to a heavy overlay Romans.
tapsend uncertainty, with small, mincing steps, she went to the bathroom. There, hanging on a bracket on a towel bar by her lovingly chosen for this happy day clothes. She pulled out slowly, took a shower very warm and massaged her old, withered skin fold with a wonderfully fragrant after arnica oil. Then she slipped into a brightly flowered summer dress, the long gray hair twisted into a braid and put it with a pearl brooch set carefully at the back. Now, even the eyebrows tightened a little shaky, a little pale red lipstick - that's it. Checking it looked in the hall mirror, turned and looked over her shoulder. She liked what she saw there. The dress in which she was nearly sixty years before her husband first met fit, always yet. A little too far around the hips, not the fashion in accordance with, far too short, but she still loved.
Outside, the bells began the first afternoon Christmas service to ring. Margaret went back to the kitchen and looked out the window at the white-dusted roofs. Softly she hummed to herself. Happily screaming children romped down through the freshly fallen snow of the church. Adults walked slowly behind. It had stopped to browse, gently for a few days, large flakes floated to the ground. The extent to which their own children at that time had always got the first snow ...
The little woman on the collected the windowsill hoarded sleeping pills and tranquilizers, and put together the blister packs into a pocket of the dress. Thoughtfully, she walked through each room. She looked around carefully.
"The plants are fed," she thought. "My laundry is washed, the beds made and the rubbish I've also worn down," she thought. "My apartment is appointed. Or have I forgotten something? "
long time they remained in the living room before they scratched dresser, looked at the old, faded, and looked wistfully the couples lined up debut Shoes their children. One last time they blew Staubflusen of the wood.
Margaret turned on the stereo. They appealed their favorite CD, "A Midsummer Night's Dream" by Mendelssohn-Bartholdy and loaded the wireless headphones a bit awkward on the still damp, freshly coiffed hair. Then they stumbled, the tablet reasonably certain balancing, on the balcony. There they sat there on the off with greenery decorated table.
The first glass of wine she drank standing sip to sip, alternating with some tranquilizers.
It was now completely dark. Peaceful silence lay over the city. Only here and there a quiet and muffled engine noise came through the frozen snow. Margaret pocketed the electric lights. Colorful mini-stars shone now the small, with exposed aggregate concrete clad loggia. Solemnly reflected the powdered white pine green, the sparkling rays.
the numeric bar sleeping pills she took another glass of wine. Carefully, a bit dazed and weak, the old lady sat on a freezing cold of teak chairs. The photo of her late husband slipped from her stiff fingers. No matter ...
The memory of her husband and children she kept deep in their souls. Why not look at pictures? With blurred view of watched it on the number of the watch.
"Not much time left, not much time, my dear. You wait it already! Coming soon ... equal ... "murmured Margaret.
Before she drained the last bit out of the glass, pulled from the thick wool socks and put his bare feet on the unused for a long time second balcony seat. With a deep sip of wine straight from the bottle, they washed down some pills for seasickness. It would help emerging and nausea, to facilitate the journey to the afterlife.
Margaret had thought of everything.
Warming alcohol spread out effortlessly in her stomach, wrapped them reached their thoughts. Gently removed and relaxed smile at the old woman to the rising moon . It would soon be a new moon.
Ecstatic they heard the last sound sequences to the music, smiling, his eyes closed, folded her little, withered hands over the airy cotton dress and dreamless sleep over in the starry, frosty night.
The colorful lights swayed gently in the wind howled in the distance far from a lonely dog.
© Elke Kemna
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