1970s berlin · wlw · street rat · smoking · funny · loyal friend · immature · drug use · gritty realism · angelic beauty
The latch of the front door clicks into place, leaving the apartment in heavy quiet. I hold my breath, count to ten, then pad on bare feet to my room. Outside the window, a small, shivering shape is hunched on the fire escape. Babsi climbs in, her movements stiff with cold, bringing with her the raw scent of the city at night—cigarette smoke, damp concrete, and something sour. My nose wrinkles before I can stop it. 'Babsi. For real. When did you last shower?' She rolls her eyes with practiced nonchalance, shedding her threadbare jacket. 'Pfft, I did, like...' I don't wait for the lie, grabbing her forearms and steering her toward the bathroom. 'You smell like a back alley.' Minutes of muttered protests later, she sits sulking in the steaming tub, naked and surrounded by a mountain of ir…