5

Only the first gust of frigid air told me I was outside of our apartment building. My own panting all

but drowned out the sounds of cars and people as I

realized how long it had been since I had walked

further than from the couch to the kitchen or to the

bedroom. Feeling my gut slap against my thighs

with every laborious step, I stumbled forward, people’s disgusted or incredulous looks hitting me left

and right. Suddenly, a bus stopped and opened its

doors with its hissingly signature, spewing out more

gawking people. Blindly I entered and thrust a few

coins at the gaping elderly driver before I turned to

the left and discovered I wouldn’t fit through the

turnstile. My face in flames, I kept my head down

as I lumbered back outside and reentered through

the rear door, causing the other passengers to either

stare or look away in disgust, the nearest of them

wrinkling their noses at my drunk and un-showered

presence. Despite the growing exhaustion in my legs I only

dared sit when almost everyone had left the bus. At

last, it pulled up to the curb at its last stop, a small

carpool-and-commute parking lot at the edge of the

woods close to the Autobahn. I didn’t know why

but I got off and stumbled on, not stopping until I

found myself sagging against the sodden parapet of

a concrete bridge.

It couldn't have taken more than a few seconds

to reflect on my way from fat but I was happy to be

a homeless, jobless whale. Well, and that's how long

it would take to make that whale disappear. They

may say alcohol messed with your senses but I had

never seen clearer in my entire life. I braced both

hands on the wet, mossy concrete of the parapet

and tried to push myself up. And again. Not a

chance, not with such a monster wearing a gut in

the way. I tried again, already out of breath. Next, I

turned and tried to heave myself up, ass first. Not

working either. Not only was the rail in the way, but

also the parapet was just too high, impossible to

tackle for a guy like me. The simple fact was that I

was too fat to live but also too fat to die. When I

realized that I couldn’t even finish this job, I felt my

knees buckle and slumped onto the frozen ground. “Would you like to go in front of me?”

The short, acne-riddled man in his late twenties

blushed and dipped his head, only to raise it briefly

again in a grateful nod before his slight figure sidled

past my overfull cart. Although the few and unhealthy purchases that his small hands placed on

the checkout belt at Aldi's bespoke a bachelor, I

had learned from extensive people-watching that a

seemingly lonely nerd may leave a grocery store and

kiss his awaiting beautiful partner and adorable kid.

Or that an old gent bent over his cane would withdraw a smartphone newer than my own, record two

fighting sparrows and share the video over on

WhatsApp. Or that a traditionally dressed Muslim

sometimes spoke with the thick regional dialect that

still eluded me after three years of living here due to

lack of daily exposure. Never assume anything

about anyone, I had to learn quickly. People assumed things about me, too, and they couldn't be

more wrong.

While I transferred the contents of my carefully

packed cart onto the belt, my peripheral vision reported that the shy customer in front of me had

half-turned to look at me while two youngsters ahead of him were piecing together the amount for

their considerable amount of sugar-laden snacks.

Textbook munchies. The shy man’s eyes were still

on me, probably wondering why anyone would

wear only a thin turtleneck instead of a thick jacket

in this weather. Well, when gloves and other sartorial means of shielding oneself are a year-round necessity, it gets rather warm, so I always left my

padded coat in the car. Offering the man, a fleeting

but sufficiently distant smile so he wouldn't feel

hurt but not get his hopes up either, I proceeded by

loading the supplies onto the belt that would last

me for the next month.

“Are- are you planning a party?” the man ventured, at last, his eyes struggling to stay on mine

once I had straightened and faced him.

“No.”

Again, I took care to pair my answer with a token

smile so as not to wound him. I had learned the

hard way that a failed attempt at flirtation can hurt

more than the person on the dispensing end of the

rebuff may believe. I continued to empty my cart,

the man’s eyes still on me but his mouth quiet now.

Hopefully, he would turn back around soon. Suddenly a lady in her late thirties with a bulging cotton

bag in one and a pre-school-aged girl, on the other

hand, stepped behind me, causing me to edge past

my shopping cart as quickly as I could. My change

in location might trigger more undue hope in the

shy man but the protective distance to a child was

vital. Children were prone to sudden, uncontrolled

movements. Indeed, the man turned over his shoulder again,

offering an endearing smile but I kept my gaze on

my booted feet, listening to his brief greet-pay-andpack process. I only looked up when it was my

turn, catching one last hopeful look from the man

as he turned to leave. I did offer one in return but

the one of the distant stranger I was and would

most likely be for the rest of my life.

3D-puzzling a month’s worth of supplies back

into a shopping cart took a while, and by the time I

pulled out my debit card, I had worked up a fine

sheen of sweat. Thankfully I would be able to remove my thin gloves in the car. It had taken some

time to find this pair that was tight, of a pleasant

material and that allowed enough tactility. At last,

the transaction was complete and I smiled at the

cashier before I leaned into the cart with my full

but inconsequential weight to propel it forward.

“Uh, excuse me?”

I registered the child’s voice only dimly and kept

on walking. Only a few more steps to the car, several minutes to transfer my cart’s contents into the

trailer and then I was off. No accidents this time. A

tap on my elbow caused me to whirl around, the remainder of my thoughts scattering like the dry

leaves outside. It was the little girl that had stood

behind me, with her fine reddish-blond hair and

adorable glasses with butterflies on them. Apparently, she had worn a wide smile on those chubby

cheeks before I’d startled and scared her.

“I... I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you,” the

impossibly polite girl mumbled in a sweet voice and sought comfort in her butterfly snow boots for a

moment. Then she brightened again. “But this fell

out of your cart.”

Her chubby hand held up a pack of cleaning rags

that had apparently fallen out of my overstuffed

cart. I knew I shouldn’t but that kid looked so open

and sweet that I just had to squat and smile at her,

my gloved fingers brushing hers as I accepted the

rags from her.

“I didn't mean to startle you either, sweetheart,” I

told her in a low, gentle voice that seemed to restore her to her former sparkling self. “Thank you

very much, that was really nice of you.”

“You're welcome.”

I couldn’t help it, I remained on the ground. Her

cute face was simply irresistible. Now her small

hand stretched out again, pointing to my head.

“I like your spirals.”

“Thank you.” Most of my hair reached down to

the clasp of my bra but the right side of my head

was shaven down to a fraction of an inch. From

time to time I used a small, special shaver to experiment with new patterns. The girl’s eyes remained

riveted to my hair.

“Did you do them yourself?”

“Yes, I did.”

“They are so pretty. May I touch them?” Not

waiting for an answer, her chubby fingers zoomed

in on their target. Instinctively I pulled back, scrambling back to my feet. I heard a sharp intake of

breath and again the little face lowered. “Sorry.”