
“What you make?” I knew she had me, I had been found out.
“I was just coming around by the Rodenberg when a panther sprang out of the woods and knocked me off my Velo.”
“You are a Luftgucker.”
“That means my head’s in the clouds?”
“Something like that.”
“No, it was a panther, I swear.” I didn’t want to tell her I had fallen in the full dazzle of light, in a fresh rain-washed sky, drinking in the sweet air… when Hans-Ruedi passed and honked; when waving back, regaining my attention too late to adjust, I hit the curb, spilling ass-over-teakettle in a heap up on the sidewalk. Disentangling myself from the bike, I was okay; not even shaken, really, with only a leaking silver-dollar sized strawberry on my elbow to show. The bike seemed fine. I wasn’t going very fast. But Edith would notice; that was for sure.
