“One, two, three – ouch!”
“One, two, three – damn!”
Roman’s voice gets closer. “Annette – what are you doing?”
She looks up from where she’s just fallen. “I’m trying to spin in my grave. Not that I am in a grave, but anyway.” She gestures around and snickers sarcastically.
“Huh?” Roman spins a perfect pirouette. “Like this? Then your coffin would have to be vertical. Why would you spin in your grave anyway?” Roman sits down next to her.
“Just caught a glimpse of what’s going on in the loft tonight.”
“Ah, Christmas-melancholy”, Roman sighs. “Nothing that can’t be made bearable with a nice big cup of Glühwein.”
“Where the fuck do I get Glühwein here?”
“Shh, no cursing in heaven!”
“Well, the lack of alcohol regularly makes me doubt that we actually are in heaven”.
Roman peaks through a little hole in the ground but Annette shoves him away. “You do not want to know!” she says sternly. “You. Do. Not.”