An hour later we notice we are moving.

I wake up during the night. Kropp is restless too. The train rides easily over the rails. I cannot realize it all yet; a bed, a train, home. “Albert!” I whisper.

“Yes⁠—”

“Do you know where the latrine is?”

“The door is on the right, I think.”

“I’m going to have a look.” It is dark, I grope for the edge of the bed and cautiously try to slide down. But my foot finds no support, I begin to slip, the plaster leg is no help, and with a crash I lie on the floor.

“Damn!” I say.

“Have you bumped yourself?” asks Kropp.

“You could hear that well enough for yourself,” I growl, “my head⁠—”