The next morning he got up early and walked to the train station, where he bought a ticket to Helmstedt. The train would leave around noon, and he decided to splurge his allowance on a breakfast in that café Böhm had taken him to. His mouth watered at the memory of those heavenly pastries.
The weather had cleared up and everything looked neat and tidy. Except for shining droplets on trees and bushes, nothing remained of the fluvial rains from the day before. Despite the sun lurking behind some clouds, it was chilly and none of the outdoor tables were occupied. He didn’t mind and chose the seat from where he could overlook all other tables and watch the passers-by.
Biting into an especially fantastic-looking sweet pie called Johannisbeerstreusel, red currant streusel, he closed his eyes t
