You’d have to know him to understand my meaning. He badgered me about the trip to Munich, me with all my fears of adventure in the new land. He wasn’t going to take “No” for an answer and so we went.We had 12 hours to spare and I had no idea how long the trip might be, how long he would stay, etc., etc. Turns out Munich was 90 kilometers away and converted to miles that’s only 55.9234 to be exact.As a kid my family drove a lot of miles - a lot, out in the uninhabited west. 55 miles was a jaunt, a short drive. And it was Autobahn all the way to Munich like a super highway that Maseratis could wind out on, no speed limit actually. Ron’s VW bus had a full 30 horsepower so we stayed far to right in the wide way that had no lane separation lines visible for much of the time. We traveled up and down the low hills and I was getting to see Germany wide open as not a tourist but a new resident of sorts.I figured he wanted to talk to me about Hanna but I didn’t bring it up. He didn’t either.. Angel watched not him, but the cigarette as it wiggled as he talked, the burning tip flaring a red hue as he inhaled. She obeyed silently, not out of submission, but out of habit. Her body was still achingly tired, and she was grateful for an excuse to sit. There was more sizzling at the stove. She sat at the small kitchen table, her back to him. When he set a plate down in front of her, she nearly jumped with surprise. Angel looked down at the plate. The yellow scrambled eggs and reddish brown strips of bacon beckoned her to eat, but she wasnt sure she should. Coffee or juice? Dante mumbled around his cigarette. Water, Angel answered almost too soft to hear. Dante set a glass of water next to her plate before sitting down perpendicular to her with his own plate of food and cup of coffee. He reached across the table, hooking a finger on a glass ashtray and dragged it towards him. He rested the stub of his cigarette in the tray before picking up a fork and stabbing at his eggs..
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