Worse, it was never predictable. Lieber Gott, he almost muttered aloud, it could even be that Petzi the bear from the children’s television show: wasn’t that bear always playing in the woods? That might explain it all right. His son looked over at him, and he saw again the dark patches under his eyes, the stubble. The electric razor frightened him now.

“Make me a tractor,” he said to him. “A nice big one, Hansi.”

He went back to trying to figure out who to phone, how to do something about this. How many days had it been? Something had to give.

Felix had coffee first. He took it to the bathroom, and finished it as he shaved. Then he picked at buns over a second coffee, at the table.

At ten to the hour, he put on his tie and his belt. He lifted his uniform off the hanger by the door to the apartment without making a sound.

“Don’t forget,” she said from the bedroom doorway.

“Did I wake you?”

“I’m always awake.”

She yawned and pulled the housecoat tighter. The lust ran up his body in a wave and settled in his groin.

“Two more,” she murmured. “Then to a beach.”

It was that bedwarmth smell, he believed. Or her perfume, even yesterday’s worn-out scent hanging in the apartment, or the morning breath on her lips, even. She leaned her head against the doorjamb and finished her yawn with that cat-stretch movement of her arms straight out, in fists, not paws.

“What,” she said, suddenly still and wide-eyed. “What’s that look?”

He slipped his hand in the fold.

“There’s time,” he said. She let him work on the knot there and then glanced down.

“Well, I can see what’s on your mind.”

“Mind?”

Her stillness made him pause.

“Tell you what,” she said. “I’ll wait right here, right here until you get home. I won’t move. I’ll be your little hausfrau. Okay?”