And was it pretty?
Very pretty. The Alps, I said, are very, very pretty.
They nodded again, glowing with quiet pride, with love. Genau, the husband murmured.
#
The train for Zieglebrücke was leaving when I walked in the station, and in Zieglebrücke I had to run to catch the Zürich train. My legs were sore. On the Züri train I relaxed. I was going to make it home that night. Zürichsee, Hauptbahnhof, a number Six tram; up the hill, up the stairs, into our apartment, flop into my kitchen chair. It was 7:15 P.M.
“How was it?” Lisa asked. “You look kind of wasted.”
I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. I gaped like a goldfish.
She pointed a spatula at me. “Did you have another adventure?”
“Genau.”