The next morning I had a dark bread I’d never had before with coffee. I buttered it and ate it untoasted.

The flat was new to me. I’d moved into it the day before yesterday in a hurry. It wasn’t the flat I’d arrived into. That was smaller: a kind of studio. The drawing room and bedroom merged with the kitchen. In another mood I would have found it charming. The first evening, though, I was depressed especially by the lack of demarcation between shower and toilet. The bathroom was narrow. On another day, I would have warmed to this. Which space do you own more entirely than the bathroom? But, that evening, I stepped out of the shower and saw the toilet was wet. I called Jonas.

‘I hope everything is all right,’ he said.

‘Yes it is. Yes it is, thank you . . . There’s one thing.’

‘Please don’t hesitate to tell me.’

I tried to remember.

‘Isn’t it true . . . actually, I have the letter before me. Isn’t it true that the Böll Professor gets a two-bedroom flat?’

I could hear Jonas taking this in. I’d only entered the flat an hour ago. I’d embraced it inwardly. I’d taken to its twentieth-century quality – but then rapidly began to feel doubtful, to reconcile what I’d been asked to expect to where I’d been deposited by Jonas.

‘Yes, the Böll Professor gets a two-bedroom flat. That is right.’

‘But this is a one-bed, I think . . . or a studio.’ A silence.

‘Yes, yes. I see. Yes – I think they thought that since you don’t have your family with you, you won’t need a regular flat.’

‘Yes, I understand. The bathroom here is very small, Jonas. It’s not what I expected.’ I said, knowing he’d now dislike me, ‘I can’t be here for four months. I think I should get the flat I was promised. I’d rather go back if you can’t.’

‘No, no, no, no.’ I already had a sense that Jonas was courteous and unexcitable. He allowed himself a moment of urgency. ‘I will call Max right away.’

Max, who had invited me, was on sabbatical in Arizona.

‘Thank you, Jonas.’

I moved the next morning. The Böll Professor’s apartment was only two houses away.

It was spacious, with wooden floorboards. An expansive drawing room, with a TV near the window. The small bedroom had a bunk bed, presumably for children. I never went there. My room had a king-sized bed: unlikely to be put to full use. To not have a family felt like a wind-fall. The kitchen was to the left of the hall leading to the front door. There was surplus space here too. I registered this as I buttered my bread the first morning.