Battle of the Rhine

Emma's matter seems to be less important. Compared with criminal crimes, at least the dead will not harm the interests of the living.

The bruises on the eyes subsided a bit, and Michael went back to work.Busy work can make people temporarily forget their troubles and worries. You can also yell at your subordinates. This is a kind of anger, and it can also be counted as venting.At lunchtime, Michael called Cripple into the office, sat him down on a round stool, gave him bread and coffee, and asked if he would like a Coke.

"What's the matter with you?" said Cripple, holding a soda bottle. "Did you get into a fight?"

"Meet a lunatic," Michael said. "You're lying about me again, aren't you?"

"You should have separated from that college student sooner," "Cripple" grinned, "some of the German cunts are fierce, as hell!"

"Are you married?"

"No, no. Last month, my sister introduced a widow to me, who was a few years older than me. She looked down on me and thought I was too ugly." "Cripple" touched his face, "I don't want to think about it either. I can get married! Keeping money is worse than buying wine..."

Michael put two sugar cubes in the coffee mug.The factory coffee is very strong and bitter. "Don't you like women?" He pretended to be unintentional, and covered his mouth with his cup, "I remember you said—"

"You can't talk nonsense!" "The Cripple" waved his hands again and again, "I'm not that—"

That word came up again, Mr. Mueller said it, and Michael was impressed. "What do you mean?" he asked. "I've never heard that word."

"It means homosexuality." "Cripple" rolled his eyes, "I like women, really, I have never had sex with men. I just tease those young children, they don't know anything..."

"I thought you liked him."

"I really don't like men! We just live close to each other. He's been like that since he was a child, like a girl. I can blame his parents. He has three older sisters. They don't have time to take care of the youngest son, so they wear skirts for him." , let him play with his sisters."

Coke made "The Cripple" burp heavily, "He's actually a pretty good guy, he works hard and has a good hand. This 'hobby' has killed him...he's been locked up several times, and he's been beaten a lot . Later, later," his eyebrows drooped, "I heard that those guys changed the law, and homosexuals would be arrested, sentenced, reformed, and treated. Maybe he was arrested? He was too nonsense, the whole street Who doesn't know that Little Clauser likes to be fucked by men... I haven't seen him again, and everyone says he's dead."

The sugar cubes failed to dilute the bitterness of the coffee. Michael also opened a bottle of Coke and took a few sips. "Poor thing," he said, "though—"

"Don't get me wrong," grumbled Cripple, "homosexuality is illegal! I don't want to lose my job."

"Will you lose your job if you're gay?" Coke was slowly bubbling in his belly, and Michael felt a bit of a stomachache. "I thought it was just being scolded...a fine? After all, the war is over, shouldn't those past laws be revised?" ?”

"No, I heard that the police arrested a lot of people in Frankfurt last year alone," "The Cripple" shrugged, "If they were prosecuted, they would lose their jobs or go to jail. Some homosexuals committed suicide, some of them A boy who jumped from the Goethe Tower after receiving a court summons, probably not yet 20 years old... so boring, survived the war, and then lost his life after the war... Don't you think this is crazy? Whatever it is What are you doing? There are not many men left...the streets are full of women, underage children and old people. Look at this factory, there are only a few men in their twenties to forties..."

Michael walked heavily, took out the key and opened the door. At 05:30, this time last year, he had just arrived in Germany, full of excitement and excitement.The flowers in the garden have failed to bloom, and the withered buds hang their heads listlessly.He was about to put the key in the lock when the door opened by itself. "Come in," said Quincy, with a nervous smile, "I heard the engine—"

This week, Quincy returned from get off work on time every day.He became much more active than before, cooking, cleaning the house, and even asking Michael if he would like to listen to a piano piece.But Michael couldn't lift his spirits. It may be a side effect of the medicine. He was anxious, irritable, had a headache, and lost his appetite. "Have some soup," Quincy sat him down, without asking Michael to wash his hands, face, or change his clothes. "It's windy, and the weather forecast says it will cool down tomorrow. Put on my coat, I took it out..."

"Thank you." Michael said bluntly, he didn't understand what was going on with him, "How much is it for a day?"

Quincy's smile disappeared, his eyes widened, "I don't need any money, I'll just borrow it from you." He tried his best to smile again, and cut the sausage into beautiful little triangles for Michael.Michael ate the sausage and the bowl of soup, then he found a ten-finny piece and put it in a frog-shaped piggy bank on the dining table.

The piggy bank was bought in the summer, and Michael bought it to amuse Quincy.He drank Quincy's coffee or tea on purpose, and then, without waiting for Quincy to open his mouth, he stuffed the Finney he'd prepared earlier into the frog's mouth.Ten Finney made a slight noise in the piggy bank, and Quincy, who was clearing the tableware, glanced at the frog, whose face turned pale under the light.

"What's wrong with you?" he asked. "Do you hate me?"

"No," Michael said, "because you cut me sausage, and cutting sausage is ten pfennies."

"Sedlitz's mother wrote back, and she has rushed to Munich." Quennessy said, "She said that John had been mentally disturbed after the war, and she contacted the nursing home and would send him for treatment."

"Nursing home", "treatment", these two words Michael sounded particularly harsh.Those homosexuals, once discovered by the Nazi government, will be sent to "sanatoriums"-in fact, concentration camps.The so-called "cure" is nothing but slavery, hard labor, whipping... death.Thousands of gays died in concentration camps, and he stared at Quincy, remembering the damn law that had never been amended: If Quincy was really gay, if he was found out... what would happen?Lose your job?sentencing?His college students survived the war, should they go to prison in peacetime for this incident?

"What's the matter with you?" Quincy said, as if losing his mind. "Mike? Are you okay?"

"I was thinking, thinking about what you said," said Michael, with sand in his throat, "I thought—"

"You want to know about Emma?"

"Not just Emma, ​​but others—"

"I'm gay?"

"Shut up!" Michael stood up abruptly, his voice was so loud that it was buzzing in the living room.Startled, Quincy took two steps back cowering—he was afraid of the sudden burst of noise, and Michael knew that.God, Michael scolded himself remorsefully, you piece of shit, he held his badge, Mike, calm down, don't do this to him...

"Don't mention that word again." Michael said weakly, "I don't want to hear that word—remember, you are not, you were not, you are not now, and you will never be." After speaking, he fled to the second floor and locked the door door to the bedroom.