Düsseldorf

“I don’t know how Japanese people reproduce,” Asya said with a giggle, as she cut herself a piece of Senfrostbraten. “I mean, I love sushi. I also like folding screens. They can be really helpful.” She cast a glance at Laurenz that she hoped was unmistakable, but he continued to poke around in the raw vegetables—a clear case of misplaced priorities. 

“But everything is so sterile and beige and orderly. How is any mood supposed to develop? You can’t even disappear for a moment under those low tables. Do you know what I mean? Have you ever… in a restaurant, just the two of you, under the table…” Laurenz stared at her with vague interest. She took a sip of champagne and smiled. “But that’s what our city is known for now. And for consultants. And of course, Kraftwerk. Fun-free zones. Although…” She leaned back and for a moment lost herself in the bells of Kreidler, which flowed softly from the speakers as if to mirror the bubbles in her glass. 

Asya half-closed her eyes. “Do you know that feeling when everything becomes a blur?” She slowly leaned forward, placed her arms on either side of the plate, and beckoned Laurenz closer with her fingers. “When the air,” she said softly, taking his hands and pulling them toward her, “is almost body temperature and you sink into it, like a warm, soft blanket?” She looked into his deep green eyes—the two reasons she had invited him in the first place. “You sink into it,” she said, leaning further forward, “as if touched by countless hands,” their lips were inches apart, “gliding over you.” 

Now he was there. Asya saw that Laurenz had finally understood. So she leaned back and shook her head. “But instead, everyone sits at Japanese restaurants eating cold morsels.” She smiled as if she had returned from afar. It was obvious: a hunger had awakened in Laurenz. Very good. But of course, he would still have to put in a little effort.