The Ashes of Berlin

tarnished brass of the plaque by the gate: 169 Albrechtsrasse – Frankewitz. This was the place. He looked up and down the street. Opposite was a small park, to either side were more blank walls. Gripping the bars with his hands, and putting his foot on a crosspiece, he hauled himself up the gate, throwing a leg over when he was high enough, and letting himself down on the far side of the gate the same way he had come up.
He hopped on to the gravel, rubbing his knee, and then walked up the side of the driveway, feeling very self-conscious, even voyeurish, expecting at any moment the door or