God's Blessing is a Curse

Berlin didn't feel like the same city.

The snow hadn't fallen yet, but the frost settled deeper. Trees naked along the sidewalks, their limbs stiff with waiting. Smoke clung to the buildings. People moved quieter. Or maybe I was just seeing everything from the other side now.

We didn't return to my apartment. Konrad had a place in Moabit—bare, clean, and hidden enough not to draw attention. We crossed the city at dawn, cloaked by fog, and arrived just as the street lamps flickered out.

He didn't speak much as we entered. Clara and I followed without asking.

The flat was on the third floor, tucked behind a tailor's shop. There was no name on the door. Inside, it was colder than outside. A small stove stood unused in the corner. There were no decorations. Just maps. Two rifles. A set of uniforms. A stack of city patrol reports.

Konrad set his rifle down by the door. "You'll be safe here for now."

Clara stepped past him, slowly taking in the room like a memory half-forgotten. She ran her hand along the edge of a windowsill and didn't say anything.

I watched her, then turned to Konrad. "How long have you been preparing for this?"

He didn't hesitate. "Since I woke up."

"And when was that?"

Konrad looked at me. "Before you."