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Yes. She and her beloved Bert…“Phew,” I said, “apart from the fact that times have changed: I’m not a fallen fruit to be picked up by one who doesn’t even need to look up from the ground! No, aunt, I am quite sure: my prince will come, he’ll spot me high up in the tree, and then he’ll pick me, without having a glance for the rotten fruit at his feet.”
Lost in thought, I stare at my reflection in the camera window of the chat box on my screen, still open from the last meeting. As if by remote control, my fingers find the soft pink line at my hairline where the sharp-edged onyx stone from Kevin’s stupid signet ring hit me.
So much for the high esteem in which the noble prince held me, who three years ago had released me from my place high up in the tree, affirming that he would carry me in his hands for all time.
One hardly notices the scar anymore. Even if I didn’t want to believe it at first: Philipp’s prophecy, meant as a consolation, will probably come true, that in two or three years at the latest, no one will even be able to see it anymore, even if they know where to look.
I can almost feel his gentle fingers on my temple again as he applied adhesive plaster to the laceration.
Although—or precisely because?—Philipp is the exact opposite of Kevin, he treated the squashed fallen fruit I had plopped in front of his feet with considerably more respect and care than my once-so-radiant prince on his noble steed ever thought of.
With my eyes closed, I surrender to my already far-too-familiar daydream, this time in the fetching variant:
Philipp’s pickup pulls up in front of the office, I hurry across the paved forecourt to the truck, open the door, and sit jauntily in the passenger seat.
“Hi, how was your day?” After stowing my briefcase in the footwell, I pull the seat belt out of its holder by the lock.
“Long and uneventful…”
I’m about to fasten my seat belt when the click of his buckle gives me pause. “Is something wrong?” I ask him.
His gaze bores into my eyes before darting down to my mouth.
Is there still a sesame seed on my lips from the sandwich I grabbed during my lunch break? I’m already raising my hand to the sun visor to check my appearance in the makeup mirror…
…but Philipp leans over the voluminous center arm console towards me. His index finger extended; he raises his left hand. “May I?”
He wants to be helpful? My stomach reacts with a flutter at the announcement of such an intimate gesture—but one that shouldn’t cause embarrassment among best friends. “Of course.” I allow him to have physical contact. Eyes half-closed, I lean toward him. With a hard hand, I rein in my galloping heart and press my lips together to keep the tip of my tongue from wiping away the crumbs myself.
But instead of my mouth, I notice his fingers under my chin.
What does that mean? My pulse rushes in my ears, and I can’t tell: Have I just thought the question, or have I spoken it?
With unyielding pressure, Philipp forces me to lift my head. At the same time—which really shouldn’t be possible—his hand on my skin feels more delicate than a butterfly’s wing.
Distraught, I lift my eyelids. My gaze crashes head-on into his eyes, being not even ten centimeters away.
In slow motion, he tilts his head, approaches me. He opens his perfectly curved lips a tiny bit and…
…kisses me.
Oh my God!With a harsh shake, I pull myself out of the dream world. I stare at my reflection in the monitor and register bright red spots under the foundation on my cheeks.Now I’m already starting to slobber shamelessly over Philipp in the office!I shut down the computer, cool my face with the backs of my fingers, and go to the window to calm my agitated inner self with a view of the idyllic old town of Mosbach.
But my hopes are deceived, as my eyes ignore both the rounded hood of the town hall tower and the sloping roofs of the half-timbered houses surrounding the marketplace. Instead, they scan the traffic pouring from left to right on the Upper Mill Road in front of the building.
My heart must be practicing hop, step and jump. At least, it feels like it would rumble against my ribs from the inside with every third beat.
It can’t go on like this!I take my coat off the hanger, grab my bag and turn off the light to hurry to the stairwell.
Less than two minutes later, I’m standing in the entrance hall of the Chamber of Commerce and Industries office, waiting for Philipp to pick me up.
My constant daydream circles in my head again.
Will he do it today? The way I envision him doing it?
Or is he just not the type? Is he… too shy? I can’t really imagine that, but then again…
Is it just my imagination, or does he also feel something at the thought of me?
