Ich habe dich vermisst

      Almost nothing had changed.       The old wharf, the boats leaving the shore, and their gray-haired captains lighting another cigarette. They no longer smelled of cheap tobacco as they passed by. There were seagulls flying above me. They flew slowly, flapped their wings smoothly, as if drawn, and disappeared into the sky. They were silent. I could have sworn I didn't hear their nasty, ringing cry at all.       The water swayed slowly with the waves from the passing yachts, but just as silent as the downy seagulls. It beat against the wooden pier soundlessly, no matter how hard I listened. I couldn't hear my own breathing, couldn't feel the pulse in my temples or the shivering of the damp wind, which, by the way, I couldn't feel either, but I was, somehow, calm. Calmer than ever. It wasn't cold, it wasn't hot, it wasn't anything. It was empty.       I can't say it's anything unexpected. That's about how I've felt for the last dozen years. My shiny white hands peeking out from under my sleeves. They had long since become decrepit and wrinkled, but just now they had taken on this cold brightness. I was definitely dead, and somehow it didn't scare me at all. I guess I was just ready.       People didn't see me. And I could vaguely see them, like they were on an old movie. Yes, the same old movie film. Just as colorless and lifeless, with interference and noise. The silent movie kept going on around me, and I was no longer able to understand its meaning. I didn't distinguish colors at all, I didn't notice shadows, and the sun no longer blinded me.       I didn't remember the engine exploding, I didn't remember drowning, and the water filling my chest. It must have been unpleasant. All I remembered was a burning resentment. The dog shall die a dog's death?       I was not deaf. As I walked forward, I clearly heard the creaking of logs under my feet, echoing around me. Somehow it was more spacious here: the echo traveled far and wide, as if it didn't even notice the trees and houses in its path. Lonely, quiet, spacious. If this was what eternity looked like, I would even be willing to spend it here.       But I wasn't alone. Up ahead, at the end of the embankment, stood a figure. Their outline was much clearer than anything else. They didn't move and were silent, turning their face toward the water. I stood just as still. At first I didn't even dare to approach, but I had nothing to lose. I took a couple steps forward.       He was a tall man, but clearly not the Administrator. He had a cheerful smile on his face, maybe even a little too cheerful. A weirdo, if he could be happy about something. I had no idea what of all those white painted seagulls, sullen black-and-white captains, and silent water could be so cheerful. He didn't turn to me, just stared at the sails of the departing boats.       Straight posture and high black boots. I took another step, but stopped myself from taking another when I saw the eagle on his shoulder and froze. My feet were nailed to the boards in the same second. The man finally turned his head in my direction, and that's when I saw for sure it wasn't a smile.       It was a theater mask.       I felt like I'd been splashed with cold water. The horrifyingly familiar goofy smile of comedy. It laughed in my face, as if on purpose, and asked, "Did you forget?"       I didn't. I knew he was dead all these years. I knew how he died and when. I'd spent so many years scouring for his journal, and it was only now that the realization itself truly hit me. He thought he killed me in those woods. He didn't realize I was almost an accessory to his own murder.       His hand reached into his pocket and pulled out a small pendant by its string. A metal troll cross.       My legs started to shake.       "Was bist du nur für ein Arschloch, Deadhead".       His voice cut through me like a blade. I would have cried if I could have, but instead I just covered my face with my hands, as if it were no longer covered by the skull mask.       "Ich hasse dich, Swain! Warum bist du in mein Leben getreten?! Du verlogener, heuchlerischer Idiot. Ich hasse dich!"       He was silent, listening to my hoarse muttering. Then he clenched the cross in his hand and shortened his distance a little while I continued to stare at the floor.       "Ich habe dich vermisst, Sebastian..."       I raised my eyes to his, trying to gaze into the mask as if I wanted to visualize his face behind it. His almost always deceptively kind and friendly face, and the smile that had shone on his face when I'd brought the mask into camp. He was definitely going to have to smile now, too.       Swain sat down across from me. The black eye sockets of his mask no longer showed the light blue eyes that looked like the cloudless sky over Dresden. He looked at me for a long time, holding the cross in his hands, and then slowly tied it around my neck.       "Ich auch, Lars".