As Natasha settled into Christiane’s cozy Leipzig home, she couldn’t help but notice how good Christiane looked for a woman well into her fifties. She was fairly tall and slim and had black hair and light gray eyes.
Then memories of her cyber friendship with Marion began to resurface despite trying to push her out of her mind and focus on Christiane. She sat on the couch, lost in thought, as fragments of their conversations played like old movie reels in her mind.
It had started innocently enough in 2015 when Natasha was thirty-five and Marion was forty—a shared interest in a particular online language-learning community had brought Natasha and Marion together. Natasha, who already knew quite a bit of Spanish and Italian, was studying German. As a native German speaker, Marion was one of the ones who corrected her lessons. Their virtual friendship blossomed as they exchanged messages filled with jokes, a hint of flirtatiousness, and the occasional debate. They often shared things about their different countries and travel experiences. They reveled in the joy of finding a kindred spirit in the vast expanse of the internet. The friendship lasted for five years. All communications stopped shortly before 2020. Now it was 2023 and Marion was less than a few hundred miles away. It amazed Natasha to know this.
But Natasha’s reminiscence soon turned bittersweet as the memory of their falling out flooded her mind. The argument had erupted like a sudden storm, catching them both off guard. It had been a heated discussion about a contentious social issue, and opinions clashed like titans in a battleground of words.
Marion had accused Natasha of being racist simply because Natasha believed in equality and that no one should be allowed to use race as a weapon against others. Shocked and hurt, Natasha’s defenses had flared, and she had lashed back at Marion, accusing her of being judgmental and hypocritical. After all, Marion had fat-shamed people in their messages as well as judged her for how she decorated her own home in the pictures she’d share with her, among other things. Their words had become daggers, piercing the bond that had held them together.
In the aftermath of their explosive argument, the once-solid foundation of their friendship had crumbled into ruins as Natasha told her off, informing them that they were done. Their virtual connection shattered, leaving only echoes of broken promises and unfulfilled expectations. Attempts at reconciliation had failed, as each harbored their own grievances, unable to bridge the divide. But as much as Natasha tried after some time had passed, Marion didn’t want anything to do with her.
Now, sitting in Christiane’s living room, Natasha couldn’t help but feel a mix of sadness and longing. She wished things could have been different between her and Marion, that their friendship could have withstood the tempestuous storm of their disagreement. The pain of losing Marion lingered, and Natasha yearned for closure.
Meanwhile, in Munich, Marion paced back and forth in her apartment, her mind clouded with regret. She recalled the acrimonious exchange with Natasha, the sharp accusations that had been hurled back and forth. Marion’s anger had fueled her words, but beneath the surface, there was a lingering doubt—an inkling that she had let her emotions cloud her judgment. Or had she? The jury was still out on that one.
As Marion pondered their fractured friendship, a sense of guilt washed over her. She knew deep down that her accusation of racism had been unfounded and unfair. She had likely misunderstood the point Natasha was trying to make. Marion had been unable to see beyond her own hurt, unable to understand that their disagreement was rooted in differing perspectives rather than malice.
With each passing day, Marion had put Natasha in the past. She hadn’t thought much of her, hadn’t really missed her, and hadn’t expected to ever allow her back into her life. She normally preferred friends she’d met face to face and that she could drive to anyway. But now, as much as she hated to admit it to herself, the weight of regret began to be felt sitting on Marion’s shoulders. The memory of their friendship haunted her, but as much as she yearned for a chance to make amends, to seek forgiveness for her hasty words, she was determined to hang onto her anger and not give in to her curiosity. Better to keep away than make amends. Fear that held her back—a fear of rejection, of reopening old wounds, and of facing another fallout.
Back in Leipzig, Natasha knew that their possible meeting had the potential to either heal old wounds or deepen the chasm between them. She grappled with conflicting emotions—part of her still harboring anger and resentment, while another part yearned for understanding and reconciliation.
As Natasha was shown to the guest room in Christiane’s house and then treated to a home-cooked meal that Christiane had prepared before picking her up at the airport, Marion’s presence lingered like an unspoken specter. The weight of their broken friendship hung in the air, both an obstacle and an opportunity. Natasha wondered if their paths would cross once more, if Marion’s heart would soften and her words would seek reconciliation. For now, she tried to put Marion out of her mind as she and Christiane got to know each other a little better. They discussed Natasha’s flight to Germany, the weather, the stores, restaurants, and entertainment in the area.
They sipped red wine and chatted late into the night. Christiane was a taxi driver who had to return to work in the morning, leaving Natasha alone to relax for part of the day, but would be going on vacation in a couple of days.
Exhausted but in a good mood, Natasha settled into the comfortable guest bed that night. She heard subtle movements Christiane made beyond the wall to her left as she settled into her own bed.
Natasha’s heavy eyelids soon fluttered shut and she began to dream of Marion.
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and then Add to home screen.