On the Karlsplatz side of Naschmarkt, a married couple in their early forties had just left a pavilion, which looked like a restaurant, together with a teenage girl and a young man. The latter shook hands with the man and the woman and said something in a way that expressed inherent knowledge of a rule of conduct that had been observed in this city by everyone for centuries.
A few seconds later, the couple and the girl were proceeding towards the booths of Naschmarkt, while the young man was walking in the opposite direction, hurriedly and awkwardly, as if it were impossible for him to stand still or move slowly. It was as though he were being pushed away from the trio by a law of nature or a propulsion triggered by the handshake, which incidentally forced him to walk in a long curve before he was able to set his steps on a straight path.
The trio, too, was affected by the propulsion. The man and the woman embarked on a conversation as soon as the boy was at a safe distance, like divers gasping for air after a long time underwater. The outburst of words caught up the girl, who seemed to agree with the couple without saying a word, as if she were merely a piece of furniture on a carpet being dragged.
The matter seemed to have been decided. The parents would not allow their daughter to meet the young man again. The girl obeyed her parents avidly. Their decision shattered everything that had bound her to the boy and decisively cast the memory of him into the trash, much like when we forget our instinctive actions of only a moment before – such as wiping away a fly from the eyebrow or pulling out an isolated hair.
In the hours that followed, the young man had to wrestle with the effects of this decisive event, which could be compared to a strong headache. But perhaps the politeness that he had expressed so determinedly and conclusively was the first sign that this headache would soon pass?
September 2016