Her wrinkles were like slander. Her voice was akin to a beating with a stick.

“So ein Typ war er. Ruben Wolf. Wenn er am Leben war, war er okay.”

“I only know it would have been nice to be making love instead of attempting mur…”

“I know who you are and I am ready. Not that I want to go, of course, but I will…”

“My heart is so tired”