Now, late November in Vienna’s Seventh District, she understood. The window curved gently into the night, a glass bubble on the facade of the Gründerzeit building. To her left, a sliver of the courtyard garden, bare-limbed lindens. To her right, the corner café where a pianist still played scales at this hour. Ahead, the Ferris wheel of the Prater blinked far off, a quiet constellation.
The rain had stopped an hour ago, but the streetlights still caught the wet cobblestones and turned them into scattered sequins. From the deep seat of the bay window, Anna watched a man in a long coat cross the intersection, his footsteps silent through the old glass. bay windows vienna
She picked up her cold coffee and raised it to the glass. Now, late November in Vienna’s Seventh District, she
The window, as always, did not answer.