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Tillandsia/Chapter[16]- Sylvia Petter 
TILLANDSIAChapter 16It was the year of the man on the moon. When she'd left Australia Astrid had winked upat him, not knowing that before the year was out he would not be alone, not knowing that shewould be very much so. She thought of Jake. He’d sent her a postcard from Noumea. He saidhe’d be there for a few months for work. She missed him. It wasn't that his absence left a hole;it was just that there was so much more when he was there. But she had wanted this time.Astrid stared out of the train window as the countryside chugged by.She'd come in from the East from Vienna via Prague. After the awful experience withFritz, her need to run had been so suddenly strong - the need to get out. She'd been tough whenshe left Sydney. She hadn't thought twice then either.The train screeched to a halt on the Czech/GDR border. Two puffed up grey uniformedmen entered the compartment. Each took an aisle.“Passport,” one said, then took the navy booklet and flipped through to the Czech visa tomake sure Astrid could really leave Czechoslovakia. When the other passengers had showntheir papers the officials swung down on to the platform as if they had run out of air. The trainlurched into motion over an expanse of grey barren terrain and then screeched to another halt.“Passport,” clipped a new uniform. “Koffer aufmachen!” Astrid didn't know whether shewas expected to first show her papers or open her suitcase. She held out her passport.“Koffer aufmachen!”Astrid took down the suitcase with the stickers - CABIN - ANTONIA LAURETTI plastered on the lid. She opened it.“Was ist das?”“A koala,” she said, “a koala bear.” As if the word “bear” would bestow it more
 
Tillandsia/Chapter[16]- Sylvia Petter 
innocence. They weren't bears of course, but he wouldn't know, Astrid thought. The dour facedman in the grey uniform took out a knife from the instep of his boot and slashed the stuffedcreature in one clean rip right down the belly. Then he put the knife away and dug his fingersinto the synthetic entrails, spilling them out into the suitcase. Astrid gaped. She could feel perspiration on her palms. With a flick of his wrist, he threw the fur carcass into her case.“Books? ““No,” Astrid whispered.“Books?”“No!”Astrid trembled and stared straight ahead as he went on to the next passenger.“Passport!”Astrid was glad to alight. The physical exercise of changing platforms in Halle and boarding the local train had calmed her as she took a seat in the almost full compartment.She glanced at the teenage girl sitting opposite her. She was struggling to open a bottleof - the label said “Malz Kola”. The deformed word drew Astrid's hand down to her suitcase.The koala gift was inside. What had they been looking for? Astrid swallowed - so cute, the onlygift she had had for her family and they had to ruin it.The blonde girl in her knee socks, white blouse and skirt started worrying the bottle capon the side of the metal armrest.Astrid rummaged in her bag. “Bitte,” she said and held her hand out for the bottle. Thegirl gave it to her with a look of surprise. The bottle was warm. Their Coca-Cola, Astridthought. Warm coke. She plucked off the top with her pocket knife opener and handed the bottle back.“Danke,” the girl said and began to sip and then, as an afterthought, offered the bottle toAstrid. Had she done it spontaneously, Astrid might not have noticed her hand.“Nein, danke,” Astrid said and continued in German. “How many stops is it to
 
Tillandsia/Chapter[16]- Sylvia Petter 
Sibigrode?”“Just one more,” the girl said and switched the bottle to her left hand and tucked her right hand in the pocket of her pleated dark-blue skirt.Six fingers, Astrid thought. “Danke schön,” she said.The girl must have noticed the difference in accents. Astrid's German was not fluent, butit was clear she would get by, as a stranger would, and the girl with the ice-blue eyes had seenthat. Yet Astrid found the girl's accent and the words more familiar, more innately known thanthe speech and dialect of Vienna. German was many things, Astrid thought.The girl must have felt a certain ease as well. “Where are you going?” she asked.“To the Friedrichs. Do you know them?” Astrid said. Of course she doesn't, she thought.She remembered how she'd laugh when asked if she knew someone so-and-so in Sydney. Nowshe was doing the same thing.“No. But the town is small. They'll know at the station,” the girl said.The train pulled in to a simple grey platform with a low one-room building andouthouse. With a wave of “Auf Wiedersehen”, her suitcase in hand and her carry bag over her shoulder, Astrid got off, knowing she would probably never see the girl with the strange handagain. But, one never knew. Who was it, Astrid wondered. Oh, yes. Anne Boleyn. They'd takenher for a witch. Well, she could always have it removed. Plastic surgery here, at the end of theworld. Astrid smiled to herself, now where was down under? She shrugged and walked towardsthe small squat building.“The Friedrichs' house is the last one on the road to Gorenzen - about twenty minutes onfoot,” a man said in a low flat voice. He must have been the station master. He was the only person there, the building would not have had room for anyone else and his grey uniform andcap gave him an official look.It took Astrid thirty minutes to walk down the dusty road that had been tarmacked, butnever repaired. There was no footpath, just rubble and sand seeping into rough grass. The
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