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three hours ago. What do you think?”
    “Christine, you’ve got it all wrong. It all started after we separated; I was so lonely.”
    I looked at him. Until now I’d had no idea how much it could hurt to look into the face of someone you had lived with for years.
    “I can’t believe that you’re this pathetic.”
    I went upstairs and started packing. It took until five the next morning. By then I’d packed up my whole life, marked the few bits of furniture that I wanted to take with yellow labels, filled up my car, and written the list for Marleen. Once I was done, I sat in the kitchen, had a cup of coffee, and smoked the last cigarette I would ever smoke in this house. My cat jumped up onto my lap, and the tears came.
    You will not run out of here crying! Pull yourself together!
    Thanks, Edith. At that moment Bernd came into the kitchen.
    “So, all packed?”
    “Marleen will come by on the fifteenth when the moving men come. I’ve made a list of the things that I’m taking. Most of it I’m leaving here, so don’t even try to argue.”
    “Christine, I’m sorry.”
    “Save it. It makes me feel sick just thinking about it.”
    I pushed past him and left that house and that life.
    For the first time ever, I slammed the door. Hard.
     
     
    My new CD had finished. I stood up and set it to play again.
    But today is April 16. You’ve got a new apartment, a new life, and it’s all behind you now.
    Thanks, Charlotte.
    I looked at the new clock—12:05 a.m. Day two.
    I drank the last of my glass of wine, took it through to the kitchen, and put it in my new dishwasher.
    Everything will get better from here. The only way is up. You’re past the worst, said Charlotte.
    It won’t be easy; there’s a long and hard way to go yet, countered Edith.
    I turned the music and the light off, went into my bedroom, and lay down on my freshly made bed. Lying there, I felt the tears begin to prick behind my eyes. I turned my thoughts to Marleen, Dorothea, and Ines and hoped for good dreams.

Misery
     
    W hen I woke up the next morning, my neck and head hurt.
    It was seven o’clock, and my first thought was, We’ve overslept; Bernd has to leave at seven.
    The second followed swiftly behind: I’m alone.
    I felt miserable, but I couldn’t lie there anymore. My back aching, I crawled out of bed and went into the bathroom. My reflection looked just like I felt. Spotty skin, greasy hair, unplucked eyebrows, dark rings and bags under my eyes.
    It’s no wonder Bernd didn’t want to be with you anymore. Just look at yourself.
    I hated Edith’s voice, but I leaned in closer to the mirror anyway. It wasn’t just that my eyes were red and gunky; now they were swimming with tears. I glanced at the clock on the sink. Seven fifteen. Still so early. I was cold, and it hurt to swallow. As I bent over to pull on my tights, I started to feel dizzy. I sat down on the bathtub for a moment, and the dizziness gradually began to pass.
    If you pass out now, you’ll be lying here the whole day, alone.
    The fit of tears came on as suddenly as the dizzy spell had. I’d never cope, I didn’t have the strength for all the new beginnings, everything familiar was gone, and the next few days loomed in front of me as heavy as lead. Where would I start?
    It was only when I felt my ice-cold feet that I sat up straight. I made myself breathe steadily, slowly pulled on my dressing gown and thick socks, and blew my nose.
    And now go to the kitchen, make yourself a cup of coffee with your new machine, sit yourself down, and plan out your day in peace.
     
     
    I made plans every morning. But every movement was labored and lethargic. I was settling in at a snail’s pace, but because I had to, not because I wanted to. Whenever Ines or Dorothea came by, I pulled myself together; it was easier then.
    I had to pull myself together again when Dorothea went to Finland for three weeks on a painting holiday just three days after I moved in, and when Ines said her