From Writhe’s journal:

The two of us hopped in a cab after saying tchuss to her friends at the club. The rain had let up a little bit. Anke and I sat in the back seat huddled together for warmth and other things, although we kept it PG during the short ride to her place. I don’t even remember what the building looked like from the outside or how many flights of stairs we ascended. Hell, I don’t even remember going in the front door. I was concentrating on her backside the entire time.

She guided me to the couch in her living room and went in back, presumably to her bedroom, returning a moment later minus her pink gorilla jacket. She approached me with a smile on her face and this was the second time this night I felt like I was living in a movie. She placed her left knee by my right leg on the couch and swung her right leg over to straddle me. Taking my face in both her hands she kissed me fully on the lips deeply and passionately. After several minutes of darkness and breathing, of teeth tugging lips and warm saliva, she asked if I wanted anything to drink. “No thanks, I’m fine.” She pulled back and reached to a small box on her coffee table, opened the lid and removed a joint. She twisted again and put the box back on the table, picking up a lighter. She asked either ‘do you mind?’ or ‘do you want?’, but I couldn’t tell, it felt like most of the blood had left my brain. Things were fuzzy. All I could do was nod and smile. She lit up and took a drag, then placed it between my lips and I did the same. We smoked for a bit and made out some more…

And that’s all I could remember.

I was in the deepest sleep I have ever been in. I hear a knocking from very far off. I’m not even sure I was aware of it until it had gotten slightly louder and louder. And then that’s all there was, just the knocking. Or pounding, or an angry slamming of a fist on wood, like knuckles trying to beat their way through a closed door. I was barely aware of my surroundings. I knew I was laying down and it was brighter than I remember it being. The pounding was louder now and more concentrated. Yes, it was someone knocking at the door, one I was very close to. I hadn’t been awake enough to open my eyes yet when I heard the locks being opened quickly one by one. A cold draft from the open door washed over me. Then came the yelling. A German man was shouting words I couldn’t hope to make out and a woman was responding in a calming yet defiant tone, again with words I couldn’t catch. They were speaking too loud and too fast. I had finally opened my eyes and sat up. I was on the floor, or more precisely, a small mattress on the floor in Anke’s living room. My clothes were still on and my boots were still laced. It was full morning, too bright for my eyes. The arguing continued. I could barely make out some words now that my senses were coming back to me. Boots. He is still wearing his boots, she was saying. Slept. Slept there. Nothing. Nothing happened.

I got up and wavered a bit as I got my balance. I rubbed my eyes and yawned. The man, or should I say the sorta punk-looking guy I had never seen before, was facing Anke who was in what I could only assume was her bathrobe. He pointed his arm and finger angrily toward me and spoke again looking directly at me. I hadn’t woken up enough to feel threatened, but decided to let the two have their argument. So I left. I walked right out the front door after an incoherent mumble which was meant to express announcing my exit. The argument continued as I shut the door.

I walked out into the fresh morning air, onto a street somewhere in the middle of Berlin, with a hangover that was just beginning to creep into my brain. And then it hit me. I have absolutely no idea where I am.

I saw a man working on the engine of his car across the street. I approached and said, “Entschuldigen Sie. Mein Deutsch ist sehr schlecht. Wo ist der Bahnhof?” He commented about how my German wasn’t bad at all as he pointed toward the train station adding a rechts and links along with a few street names. I thanked him and proceeded down the way he indicated. I would never be able to remember all of his instructions and was happy to have been pointed in the right direction.

On the long, bright walk along streets I would never be able to find again, all I could think of were the words I heard as I left Anke’s apartment. Gar nichts. Niemand. I’m not sure what they mean exactly, but I have a feeling they aren’t good.