‘Didn’t you want a cigarette, Gerd?’ My friends were standing half a metre behind me. We were inseparable back then. A few years later I couldn’t even recall their faces.

I stepped closer to Storm. ‘I’m sure you don’t want any trouble,’ I said. ‘Or do you? Do you want trouble, Storm?’

He didn’t answer. He just stood there, staring at the ground, blowing out smoke. Then he dropped the cigarette butt and glanced up. He looked straight past us, towards the playground where a few small children were now running. I could feel the sweat trickling down the back of my neck. It felt as if the heat were penetrating every pore and filling me to the brim. I looked him in the eye and said, ‘I’m going to devour you!’

It’s crazy, but I really wanted to do it. I tried to grab him and pull him towards me, but before I caught hold of his collar he whipped his fist out of his trouser pocket and punched me in the stomach. I doubled up, but before I could slump to the ground he rammed my forehead with his knee and I stumbled back against the iron bars, then sank slowly down them onto the pavement. I saw their gold tips swaying high above like reeds in the wind. Storm’s head appeared over me. I wanted to crawl away, but I didn’t know where to, so I closed my eyes, curled into a ball and covered my face with my hands. I felt my ear throbbing on the ground, louder and louder, and for a moment it was as if I could feel the earth’s pulse through the paving stones.

I completed my time at school, and on the whole I fulfilled expectations. When I walked out of the gate for the last time I didn’t turn around but stared fixedly ahead. I wanted to believe that I was still on the right path.

At nineteen I left Paulstadt to study. It was a mild morning, and as the bus left town I laughed, but it was a weary laugh; I didn’t trust it any more.

My plan was to complete my economics degree as quickly as possible and then embark on a successful career. I went to lectures, enrolled in seminars, and tried to take part in student life. We met every day in one of the many pubs scattered around the university. There was a lot of talking. It was usually about politics, and as alcohol was always involved, the discussions would get heated. I only drank in moderation. An indeterminate fear lurked in my heart, and sometimes, when things got too loud, or someone leaped up, their face twisted with aggression, I felt cold terror welling up inside. ‘Stop it,’ I would cry. ‘Please, stop it!’ But the others would just laugh, and I confined myself to sitting silently on the sidelines; if anyone looked at me, I would try to smile.

In the second year, I fell in love with a girl. She was very beautiful; at least, I thought so. Her skin was the colour of blossom honey and unmarred by a single blemish; not a speck, nothing. It was smoother and softer than anything I had ever seen or touched before. If I wasn’t near her, I was sick with longing; but the day I went to her apartment, stood on the threshold and talked about the softness of her skin, she laughed so uproariously that I thought I could still hear her laughter echoing on the stairs long after I was back out on the street, trembling with shame and anger.