At the beginning of next month, a new contact will enter your life and help you forget your loss. Ricarda crumpled a tear-soaked handkerchief as she remembered the lines. Massimo waited patiently. Finally, she looked at him. "So... really?" "Really. It went quite quickly this morning, she only has a small household. Three young people helped her move – maybe her grandchildren?" Tears ran down Ricarda's face again. Then she hesitantly reached for a packet of unopened brown bread and the salt shaker on the sideboard. "Hmm. OK. What do you think? Shall we go over?" Christiane H. Schleidt, Akademie für Psychoanalyse und Psychotherapie Munich On the first of April, a little old woman moved into the flat next door. When I woke up in the morning and was still lying in bed, half asleep, I heard noises coming from the flat next door that I didn't recognise. This flat was actually unoccupied, so I was confused by the sounds coming from it. At first, I thought I was dreaming. I dreamed that a witch was flying past the window on a broomstick. But then I saw that it was birds. I must have fallen back asleep for a moment. When I woke up again, I heard a rhythmic knocking. Were they Morse code signals? What was the message? Was it an April Fool's joke? Was someone knocking on the ceiling with a broomstick? Now it was quiet again. I began to wonder why the flat next door had been unoccupied for so many years. I had only been living in this house for three years myself, and it was always said that the owners couldn't agree on anything, which was why the flat wasn't being rented out. Actually, I had always suspected that the flat was occupied, because one window was usually open at dusk and in the morning even the shutters were closed. But it had never been important enough for me to talk to anyone in the building about it. And somehow it always reassured me that there was a kind of mystery next door. Now the reassurance was gone and a quiet fear crept through me. I remembered that while renovating our flat, I had discovered a photograph under a doorstep showing a small old woman standing next to a uniformed man wearing a peaked cap from the First World War. The woman was smiling, and next to her was a handcart loaded with all sorts of things. And the man actually looked friendly too. The photo is still under the doorstep to the corner room. Now I wondered if there had been a broom on the ladder cart. Bianca Isabella Christine Tiator, German Psychoanalytical Association; Mainz Psychoanalytical Institute ON APRIL 1ST, A SHORT, ELDERLY WOMAN MOVED INTO THE APARTMENT NEXT DOOR. I saw her through my window. She came all alone. I was impressed because she only had a travel bag with her. It was an old pink bag with a golden ribbon. How could this petite
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