“What does scenic and craggy mean?” Selma asked with a photography book about Ireland open on her lap. The optician, who was standing in front of Selma’s living room in the dark and could therefore only see himself, translated the words and added, “just like my face.”

Selma hung her wash to dry as carefully as if for future generations, Marlies ate peas straight from the can at night when she stood at the window, sure that no one would come to see her, and now and again someone in the village resolved to be more thankful, to take more joy in simple things, or just to be happy to be alive, at least until the next burst pipe or unexpected surcharge.

Because the summer was so hot, the Apfelbach stream dried up. Now that it was dry, the optician spent an entire afternoon jumping over it with the Häubel children, and for my thirtieth birthday, Andreas gave me a gift certificate for a trip to the seaside. He suggested that we take over the bookstore together someday, that we might also move in together, and just as he made that suggestion, lying on my bed, the telephone rang in the hallway. I ran to answer it and although the call came from the other end of the world, there wasn’t any static, the connection was crystal-clear.

“It’s me,” Frederik said. “Happy birthday.”

I was hearing his voice for the first time in eight years. I closed my eyes, and on the inside of my eyelids I saw Frederik in black and white in the Uhlheck, standing between other black-and-white monks, his light-colored eyes appearing very dark behind my eyelids. He stood there and said, “My name is Frederik, by the way.”

I wasn’t prepared for his call, but my blank was. It had been preparing for it for eight long years.

“Thanks,” I said, “but this isn’t a good time.”

Frederik was quiet for a moment. Then he said, “You can’t imagine how complicated it is to make a phone call here. At least tell me how you’re doing.”

“Fine,” I said, and then there was silence until Frederik said, “I’m fine, too, thanks. I’m just always hungry.”

“That’s good,” I said, and then Frederik asked how things were with Alexander. “Andreas,” I said, and told him I really needed to hang up.

“Don’t be so difficult, Luisa, I just wanted to hear your voice.”

“Good, very good,” my blank said, and I hung up. I lay down next to Andreas and didn’t sleep the entire night because Frederik had wanted to hear my voice. Two weeks later he wrote: “Calling is complicated, but not only because of me.”