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“Tempus Imperfectum” by Al Song (part 2 of 3)

What’s been eating away at Lorenzo? Hopefully a nice lunch with a loving partner and supportive parent does the trick for the otter. 

Today’s story is the second of three parts of “Tempus Imperfectum” by Al Song, who is a musician, furry writer, and polyglot. The red kangaroo also assists as an editor at Thurston Howl Publications. He has been published in multiple anthologies, including Fang 8 and Roar 9. “Tempus Imperfectum” was originally published in Tales from the Guild – World Tour by FurPlanet, and you can find more of his stories on FurAffinity and SoFurry.

Last time, Lorenzo and Volker walked home and reminisced about their past and talked about their issues, but it seemed like something was still eating away at the otter.

Read for you by Khaki, your faithful fireside companion.

Transcript
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You’re listening to The Voice of

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Dog. I’m Khaki, your faithful fireside companion,

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and Today’s story is the second of three parts of

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“Tempus Imperfectum”

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by Al Song, who is a musician,

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furry writer, and polyglot.

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The red kangaroo also assists as an editor at Thurston Howl Publications.

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He has been published in multiple anthologies including Fang 8 and Roar 9. “Tempus Imperfectum” was originally published in Tales from the Guild –

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World Tour by FurPlanet,

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and you can find more of his stories on FurAffinity and SoFurry. [if this is the second or third entry]

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Last time, [Lorenzo and Volker walked home

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and reminisced about their past

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and talked about their issues,

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but it seemed like something was still eating away at the otter.]

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“Tempus Imperfectum”

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by Al Song, Part 2

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of 3 The next Saturday morning Lorenzo carried his viola with him

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as he walked to Volker’s house.

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He checked his watch.

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It was five minutes before nine as he reached the driveway to the house,

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a one story abode that was larger than most of the others on the street.

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He knocked on the door

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and Volker’s mother answered.

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The tall, slender badger wore a pair of sweatpants along with a worn sweater

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and was holding a pile of towels.

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She gave a surprised look and said,

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“Oh, Lorenzo, Volker’s still asleep.”

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“Yesterday he invited me over for breakfast.

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I hope he told you,

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unlike last time,”

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the otter said, frowning at the thought.

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“He informed us,” she reassured him.

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“He said that I should come over at nine.”

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“Oh, you know Volker. He loves to sleep in,” she said and shook her head.

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“I guess that’s true.” “Come

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in. I apologize for his rudeness.”

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She stepped aside to let Lorenzo in.

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“I think I’m used to his antics by now.” “Well,

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Herr Farber called last week and said that Volker yelled at other students when they weren’t playing correctly,

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is that true?” she asked,

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her voice filled with concern.

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“Has he called you about that problem before?” he asked,

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trying to sound playful.

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“Yes,” she exhaled tiredly.

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“I swear someone’s going to get upset about his temper and it’ll be someone bigger than him.

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him.” Lorenzo’s voice rose in pitch.

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“He’s always been passionate.”

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“That’s one way to describe him.”

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The tall badger sighed.

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“Lately he comes home from school and he just wants to argue.

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Apparently asking him to consider a stable career field warrants an endless argument.

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The orchestra is just an after school activity.

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I loved gymnastics as a cub,

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but I knew I’d never become a professional athlete.”

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“He really cares about music.

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Maybe one day he’ll teach classes.

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classes.” The otter’s voice wavered.

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“If only he had your ability to plan things out.

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You’re going to make a wonderful math teacher one day.”

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The badger beamed toward him.

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Lorenzo started fidgeting his fingers.

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“Yeah, thank you, uh, that’s kind of you to say.”

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They walked down the hallway to Volker’s bedroom.

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The door had a framed picture of Volker in a tuxedo

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holding his violin and bow.

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Lorenzo loved how proud Volker looked in it.

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Lorenzo had the same one on his bedroom nightstand.

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“Volker!” she yelled through the door.

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“What!?” he yelled back.

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“Lorenzo is here!” she belted.

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“Okay,” he replied in a softer tone with a whiny hint of drowsiness.

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Volker was in a faded green t-shirt and white shorts when he opened the door.

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His fur was bedraggled and his clothes were completely covered in wrinkles.

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He rubbed his eyes.

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“Let me get ready first, okay?”

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“Alright,” Lorenzo replied.

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The stocky badger grabbed a towel

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and ran towards the bathroom.

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“I apologize again,” Volker’s

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mother said with another sigh.

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“You can start eating before him.

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The rest of us had breakfast already.”

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“Thank you very much, Frau Fiedler,

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but I’ll wait for him.”

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Lorenzo walked into the living room where Volker’s younger brother was watching television.

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He looked similar to Volker but was shorter and had a lip piercing.

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Volker’s father sat in an arm chair

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reading the news on his tablet.

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He wore a red dress shirt,

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a mustard tie, and black slacks.

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“Morning, Lorenzo,” Volker’s father said without looking up from his device.

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“Good morning,” Lorenzo replied.

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“You’re all dressed up.”

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“We’re heading to Tübingen to visit my sister today.

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I’m still waiting for Laura to finish getting ready.”

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“Tübingen’s a pretty town,” Lorenzo said with a smile.

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“Yep.” Volker’s father nodded without looking away from the tablet.

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Lorenzo looked over at the younger badger.

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He was dressed in black jeans with frayed holes along the knees

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and had on a black t-shirt with a British metal band on it.

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“How are you doing, Fritz?”

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“I’m watching TV,” Fritz replied curtly.

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“Don’t be rude, Fritz,”

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his father scolded.

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“I’m doing fine and I’m still watching

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TV,” Fritz groaned the statement like a complaint.

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“What are you watching?”

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Lorenzo asked, trying to keep polite conversation between them.

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The young badger sighed.

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“Something.” “Fritz!” his dad scolded. “Teen Krimis,” he replied exasperatedly.

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On the wall-mounted television was some program about teenagers solving crimes

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and having good old fashion adolescent drama,

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which actually meant problems fabricated by adults

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who thought they knew what teens were going through in the modern day.

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It was a little schmaltzy for Lorenzo,

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but it did manage to make him laugh at times.

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Usually the laughs were directed at the show rather than its jokes, though.

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Why did the criminal have to be Turkish?

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Why did the comic relief sidekick, who was portrayed as someone not very bright,

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have to be the guy with a badly executed Italian accent?

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Why was there only one girl in the main cast? These problems

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bewildered Lorenzo since it was the twenty-first century,

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but then again, the battle against unfair representations was still ongoing.

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He remembered turning on the television set when he first got into Germany

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and not understanding anything,

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so the internet felt like a sanctuary for him.

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He could read comics

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and the watch Italian television on his laptop.

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As his German skills developed

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he was able to watch television and read German newspapers and magazines.

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Lorenzo realized that

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he was reading significantly less in Italian,

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while his father mostly read Italian novels he ordered online.

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Volker’s mother returned,

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now wearing a yellow summer dress with green leaves sprinkled on it.

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She quickly began packing various things in a small suitcase for their trip,

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transferring her belongings from one tote bag with a beach theme on it

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to another with a forest scene printed on it.

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Lorenzo smiled at the feeling of being around this badger family.

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They were all off doing different things but he was surrounded by sounds and life.

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He was around people who accepted him,

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and he didn’t feel awkward being in this space.

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After another couple of minutes,

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Volker walked into the living room wearing a pair of jeans and a golf shirt.

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He gave a yawn and said,

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“Alright, let’s eat.”

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The table was covered in bread and a couple spreads.

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The bread slicer was parked on the counter still covered in crumbs.

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Lorenzo grabbed a piece of toast

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and spread some yogurt cream on it.

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He licked his lips at the sight of it and felt relief as he took a bite.

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“Oh, I almost forgot,

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my dad said he wanted to have lunch with both of us in Stuttgart today.

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Do you want to come along?”

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Lorenzo asked after his first couple bites.

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“Yeah, of course. Is it the same restaurant?” Volker asked as he spread some cheese onto his toast.

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“Yep.” “Cool, I love that place!” Volker grinned.

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His mother walked into the room as she threaded earrings though her perked up ears.

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He turned to her and asked,

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“Mom, can I go to Stuttgart today with Lorenzo?

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His dad wants to have lunch.”

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“I don’t see why not.”

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She shuffled through her purse and took out two twenty euro bills.

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“Here, have fun.” “Thanks, Mom,”

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Volker said with a cheesy smile.

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Lorenzo just gave him a look that read,

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I thought I was the one with a brown muzzle.

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Volker shot a defensive look back.

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“What?” “Nothing,” the otter replied, shaking his head.

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When they finished eating they got their instruments out and started to practice difficult sections in the pieces again.

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A couple minutes into the practice session

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Volker’s mom told him that they were leaving and that Fritz was going over to his friend’s house.

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At around half past eleven,

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they finished practicing and walked to the train station.

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After buying their passes from the old, rusted ticket machines,

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they bought some candy from a kiosk

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and waited for their train,

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sharing some Turkish delights

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and Polish chocolate covered marshmallows.

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Once their train arrived,

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they sat down in a section of empty seats

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and looked out at the quaint scenery.

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All the brick buildings,

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lush hills, and flourishing trees rushed by them

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as they headed towards the city.

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Upon reaching their destination,

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they left the train and walked up an escalator.

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The bright sun welcomed them out of the underground station

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to a busy street filled with shoppers and couples.

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There were tourists taking pictures

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and people avoiding the photographers.

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The two ambled towards Schloss Platz

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and then down a pedestrian street with stores and restaurants.

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They entered a clothing store with an abundant amount of sales,

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promotions, and signage.

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Walking into the men’s section,

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Volker noticed a t-shirt with

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Voglio una bella ragazza on it.

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“Look, it’s in Italian,”

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he said as he plucked it off of the rack.

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The shirt was a garish mess of sparkles with

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cacographic lines and colors scrawled on it.

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“That says, ‘I want a pretty girlfriend’ and it’s kind of gaudy,” Lorenzo replied.

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“Alright, I’ll put it back,”

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he said with a playful tone of defeat.

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“Why is everything in English, Italian, and French?

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Shouldn’t some of these clothes be in German?”

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“Having things in other languages is cool,”

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Volker said as he picked up a t-shirt with C’est la vie

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in a typeface emulating graffiti on it.

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They looked around a little more.

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Lorenzo tried on some button-ups and a few scarves

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while Volker tried a couple hoodies on.

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Volker finally decided on an olive green colored jacket,

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a scarlet t-shirt,

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and some plain white socks.

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He went up to the counter with a buck behind it.

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The cashier had on all of the latest trendy clothing

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including ripped denim,

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a trucker hat with indents on the sides for his antlers

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and a gaudy gold chain around his neck.

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Volker took out the money his mom gave him

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and some of his own and paid for the clothes.

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They left the store and walked to a small gelato shop nearby that was built into the

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façade of a shopping center.

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A kangaroo received his cup of gelato

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and skipped away past the two as they approached the counter.

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A young red vixen

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and a large black bear stood in the small space behind the display of gelato

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speaking in Italian together.

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They wore white aprons on top of their casual clothing,

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and had green and red visors on.

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“A scoop of strawberry, pistachio, and vanilla, please,”

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Volker said and placed a few euros on the counter.

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The bear scooped the three flavors of gelato into a cup

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and gently placed a spoon in it for the badger.

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“I’d like Tiramisu, Amarena, and Zabaione please,”

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Lorenzo said with a smile.

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“Are you from Italy too?”

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the vixen asked the otter switching to Italian.

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“Yes, I’m from a town near Bari.

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Are you from Rome?”

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Lorenzo guessed from her accent.

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“Yep, and so is my boss,”

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she said as she tilted her muzzle towards the bear.

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“I came here to study German history

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and I was lucky enough to find a job here.”

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She handed him the cup of gelato.

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Lorenzo thanked her.

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“Grazie mille.” “Di niente,” she replied.

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“You ready?” Volker asked the otter.

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Lorenzo grabbed a napkin and replied with “Si, andiamo.

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Oh, I mean, yeah, let’s go.”

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They walked back toward Schloss Platz.

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They passed a couple people with “Free Hugs” signs in English

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and they both gave a handsome wolf a hug.

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They watched a ferret and fox couple playing guitars.

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A cardboard sign

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propped in front of the guitarists read,

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“Need money for train fare to Vienna.”

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Schloss Platz was the largest square in Stuttgart

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and was surrounded by large shopping centers,

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museums, and a baroque castle.

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The pillar in the center had a statue of a fox with feathered angel wings

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along with wolf figures near the bottom of spire.

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The two fountains flanking the pillar

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had sculptures of various species under the spouts of water.

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The statues were weathered into a jade green tone from time

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and the elements.

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“The fountain on the left or the right?” Volker asked.

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“The one on the right,” Lorenzo replied.

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They sat down on the edge of the fountain

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and Lorenzo took off his white sneakers. The otter pulled his khakis up a bit and put both of his feet in the water.

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He happily kicked and splashed the water towards the center of the fountain.

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Volker sat facing away from the fountain

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and looked at the crowds of people.

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A couple of foxes were flying kites

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and many people had towels out and were relaxing under the warm sun.

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Another otter watched over her three cubs,

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who were playing in the fountain.

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The two fed each other gelato and

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made small talk. A few clouds drifted above the pair

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as they felt a slight chill in the atmosphere.

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Spring flowers bloomed

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and some of the people shed their clothes and fur.

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Lorenzo looked at his cup of gelato.

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The logo had an Italian flag crossed with a German one.

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It read, “Gelato Freddo.”

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Volker turned to him and said,

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“There it is again.

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Why are you sad?

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Is it the gelato?

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Is it because I woke up late?”

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Lorenzo realized that he was frowning at the cup’s logo and

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tiredly replied, “Volker, I just don’t want to talk about it.”

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He finished his last bite

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and put the cup down behind him on the grass.

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“Why can’t you just tell me what’s wrong?”

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Volker asked in a calm tone.

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Lorenzo remained silent

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and stared at the water.

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“You can tell me anything.

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You know that,” he continued with an understanding voice.

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“Okay.” Lorenzo released a big sigh

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and kept staring at the water.

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“Last week, I went to a deli to buy some cheese for my dad’s new recipe.

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There was an Italian fox

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who needed help because he didn’t speak German. So I assisted him with directions and translated things for him,

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and then we talked about Italy.

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There was an old person outside who yelled, ‘Go back to your own country!

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Why can’t you foreigners learn to speak German?’

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The fox had no idea what he said,

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and he kept speaking to me in Italian, and the elderly guy kept yelling mean things at us.

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I didn’t explain what he was saying because I didn’t want him to feel bad too.

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So I just said that the old guy was spouting nonsense.”

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“I’m sorry about that,”

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Volker said, giving Lorenzo a hug and kiss.

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“You don’t have to be sorry, you didn’t do anything wrong.”

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A couple of teenagers around their age

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noticed that they had kissed and walked up to them.

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A stout squirrel about as tall as Volker asked in a smarmy tone,

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“So which one’s the girl?”

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The rest of the small group laughed. Volker balled his paws into fists and stood up.

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Lorenzo tensed up and he turned his gaze back at the water.

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His whiskers faltered.

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The mother otter turned away from her cubs playing in the fountain

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and yelled, “Leave them alone!

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They’re not bothering you!”

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The squirrel and his associates backed off and walked away,

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remaining loud and obnoxious.

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“Thanks for that,” Volker kindly said.

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He turned to Lorenzo

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who looked like he was going to cry.

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“It’s no problem,” said the mother otter.

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“I have to teach my children that prejudice is wrong.”

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Volker checked the time on his phone.

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“Maybe we should leave.

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We don’t want to be late for lunch.”

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He helped Lorenzo up

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and the two disposed of their cups.

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Volker picked up his shopping bag

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and they started to walk in the direction of the restaurant.

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There were smaller boutique stores in the streets

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with less foot traffic.

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They passed cute stores and

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people wearing black sunglasses

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and incredibly fashionable,

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yet expensive looking clothing.

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The sun was still happily beaming at the world but as they walked

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Lorenzo was frowning the entire time.

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“Is it about those jerks?”

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Volker asked. “Yeah,”

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the otter replied.

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“But that lady stood up for us,

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isn’t that what’s important?”

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“But those guys still harassed us.”

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Lorenzo sighed. “Doesn’t it make you feel good

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that other people actually defended us?”

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Lorenzo sighed again.

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“I guess a little.”

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Volker countered with a smile.

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“Let’s just have lunch and forget about it, okay?”

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“Alright,” the otter replied.

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He tried to put on a small smirk, but it quickly faded.

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Lorenzo’s father told him when they first moved to Baden-Württemberg that the restaurant was a cross between a traditional pizzeria

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and a döner shop.

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The owner was an Italian hyena who fell in love with a Turkish fennec fox.

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They opened the restaurant together and it became successful.

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The building itself was aged

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but the business was relatively new.

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The windows and signage were free of cracks and smudges,

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and the interior decor didn’t look worn and weathered

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like most of the other older businesses around the area.

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When they arrived,

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Lorenzo’s father, Massimo,

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greeted them with a big wave from a seat on the outside of the restaurant.

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“Lorenzo! Volker!” he shouted.

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“Ah, mio figlio e il suo ragazzo. Come stai, Lorenzo?” “I’m okay,” the short otter grumbled.

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Volker turned to his boyfriend.

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“Wait, what did he say?” “He just

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asked how I was doing,”

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Lorenzo explained.

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“E tu?” the large otter asked Volker.

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“That means ‘And you?’ right?” Volker inquired.

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Lorenzo sighed. “Yeah.”

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“Oh, uh, good,” the badger answered.

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“Dad, can we just stick to German?”

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Lorenzo groaned. “I mean, for Volker’s sake.”

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Massimo nodded.

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“Alright, sure thing.”

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The two of them sat down.

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The patio was crowded;

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all of the other seats outside were taken.

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There was a table with a wolf family speaking in Greek

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and another table with a couple of teenage goats speaking Turkish and laughing.

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Other people could be heard speaking

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in Vietnamese and French at the other tables.

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“Alright, in German,

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how’s your day been?”

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Massimo asked. “I’m fine,”

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Lorenzo wearily replied.

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“I thought I already said that.”

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“Yeah, we had a great time in the city,” Volker said, trying to liven up the mood.

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“We went shopping and we had gelato.”

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“That sounds delightful,” Massimo said.

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An older tiger waiter walked out with a big grin on his face.

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“Massimo, come stai?”

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He and Massimo gave each other a big hug

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and kissed one another on the cheeks.

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“What did he say?” Volker asked Lorenzo.

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“He just asked how my dad was,” the short otter said glumly.

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“Oh yeah,” Volker said with a nervous chuckle.

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“It’s okay,” Lorenzo replied with a frown.

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He stared down at the menu while the waiter and his father talked.

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“What’s wrong now, Lorenzo?”

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Volker asked. “Nothing,”

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the little otter said, feeling upset at everything.

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When Massimo and the waiter finished talking,

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the three of them ordered. A while later the waiter came back with their pizzas and drinks.

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He placed a carafe of orange juice down and set a bottle of Apfelschorle and Sprudel next to it before distributing the pizzas.

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Lorenzo had ordered his favorite falafel pizza with tzatziki sauce and feta. Volker got a Margherita pizza,

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and for Massimo, one topped with figs,

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cashews, and various traditional Turkish spices.

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Lorenzo took a bite of pizza

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and smiled. He noticed that Volker was looking back at him and smiling at his countenance.

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“Feeling any better?”

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Volker asked him.

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“I guess,” he looked up with a slight grin.

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“Lorenzo, was there something wrong earlier?”

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his father asked him.

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“No, everything’s fine,” Lorenzo replied meekly

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and his joyous grin faltered.

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“Lorenzo, if there’s something wrong you can tell me.”

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“No, really, everything’s great,” he blurted quickly and turned his gaze toward his slice of pizza,

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timidly taking another bite.

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“Alright, if you say so,”

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the older otter said.

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He then turned to Volker.

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“What’s new with you, Volker?”

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“Besides the idiots in the orchestra, I’ve been pretty good.”

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The badger scowled,

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but covered it up with another bite of the pizza.

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“Thanks for lunch by the way,”

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he said between bites.

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“You’re welcome. I’m sure that you will all do fine.

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I know you and Lorenzo have been practicing a lot and that will help the rest of the group.”

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“Yeah, Lorenzo’s perfect at the viola,”

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Volker said, smiling at his boyfriend,

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“and he himself is perfect.”

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“Aw, that’s sweet. Young love,”

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Massimo said as he tilted his head and grinned at the two.

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Lorenzo looked down at his pizza again and blushed under his whiskers.

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“You could have said that in Italian,

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Dad.” “Oh, mi dispiace, Lorenzo.”

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“What’s that mean?”

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Volker asked. “He apologized.

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You can go back to speaking German now,” Lorenzo ordered.

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Massimo rolled his eyes.

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“The orange juice please, my sir.”

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Lorenzo pushed it despondently towards his father.

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Massimo grabbed the carafe,

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knocking over Lorenzo’s glass of Sprudel.

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It splashed on him and soaked his white shirt and khakis.

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“Be careful, Dad!” he yelled.

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“Mi dispiace!” Massimo tried to help but his napkin was already dirty.

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He reached into his backpack for a rag but accidentally knocked it over on its side as well.

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A couple miscellaneous items spilled out.

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A young mink was walking by and a pen rolled against her crimson high heel.

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Massimo called out to her, “Signorina, aiutarmi perfavore!”

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Volker handed Lorenzo an unused napkin and asked,

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“What is he saying now?”

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“He asked her for help,”

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the smaller otter said through gritted teeth

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as he patted himself down.

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“Dad, she doesn’t speak Italian!”

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Lorenzo shouted at his father.

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“Beh, ma--” his father sputtered, defeated.

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“Just speak German!”

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“Lorenzo, come on, don’t yell at your dad like that,”

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Volker said putting a paw on his boyfriend’s shoulder.

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All of the other customers including the mink were staring at Lorenzo.

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“I think that I’m done here,”

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Massimo said calmly with a forced smile.

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“It’s good to see you again, Volker.”

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“Is there a problem?”

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the waiter asked as he walked back outside to see what was happening.

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“No, we had a spill.

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May we have the bill now?”

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Massimo answered.

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Massimo quickly paid for the pizzas

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and left with a subdued,

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“Goodbye.” Lorenzo and Volker finished their meals in silence before heading home,

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Lorenzo’s stomach left queasy from the entire ordeal.

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This was the the second of three parts of

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“Tempus Imperfectum”

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by Al Song, read for you by Khaki,

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your faithful fireside companion.

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Tune in next time to find out how [Lorenzo and Volker deal with the aftermath of their sordid lunch date

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along with how their festival performance turns out].

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As always, you can find more stories on the web at thevoice.dog,

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or find the show wherever you get your podcasts.

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Thank you for listening

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to The Voice of Dog.

About the Podcast

Show artwork for The Voice of Dog
The Voice of Dog
Furry stories to warm the ol' cockles, read by Rob MacWolf and guests. If you have a story that would suit the show, you can get in touch with @VoiceOfDog@meow.social on Mastodon, @voiceofdog.bsky.social on Blue Sky, or @Theodwulf on Telegram.

About your host

Profile picture for Khaki

Khaki