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Christmas in Heaven - or Hell

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“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.”

“That bad?”

“That bad.”