dialect that seems to have never heard of that thing called grammar. It contains absurd words that don’t

even exist in actual German. Did you know that they say “icke” instead of “ich” around here, and crazy

stuff like that? When I’m not utterly confused, it amuses me way too much. At least my profs at uni

(mostly) speak the language I have been studying for so long.

Danny handles the language problems pretty well, though, the bastard - as was to be expected. You

get pretty far here with a wink and that damn gorgeous smile.

Speaking of Danny, damn, you really should see our place! I promised details, so here goes. The

“tiny Berlin hideaway” Grazzo is so graciously letting us stay at is a gigantic loft with marble floors,

housekeeping, and a view of the Brandenburg Gate. Four bedrooms! Pictures included, so you can pick

one in advance for when you’re coming to visit. (When are you coming to visit?) I thought it was a

practical joke when Danny let us in after an 8 hour flight with no sleep and a jetlag from hell on my

part. I have vague memories of making him call Grazzo on the phone and demanding to speak to him in

order to believe it. I may have called the great Graziano Rizzo insane. Wah. He may have laughed at me

and said I was “perfect” …whatever that means… But really, this place is so huge I managed to get lost

on my way to the bathroom on the first night. I had to send up smoke signals for Danny to come get me.

I’m not sure what I expected of life with Danny Rizzo. Not this, to be sure. I remember being mildly

terrified when I looked around our place and thought “Perfect party hub” - I swear I foresaw sleepless

nights with crowds of people totally trashing our place to painfully loud music so vividly I may have

sobbed. But it turns out - there’s none of that. What can I say, living (hell, being) with Danny is

surprisingly… normal. No, it’s more than that, it’s kinda zen. He makes it so, somehow. Sigh. It’s like

nothing can faze him, so when I break into a panic about super important things (that may appear trivial

to anyone not inhabiting my brain), he just makes it go away. I will keep this PG-rated, so no details on

how. But you know what that guy can do to us mere mortals.

I know, I know, you say I think too much. But sometimes I still worry that it’s too good to be true.

Because I’m like that. But seriously, how on earth did I get this lucky? That’s not even real.

And it’s not even like everything is sunshine and roses all the time. We still have Our Daily Quarrel -

which comes so punctually that it’s almost getting too funny to go through with anymore. Because he

gives me that damn grin every time I start. He says I should stop trying to make life miserable when it’s

not. I’m not sure I’m quite ready yet, but I may have to succumb some time in the foreseeable future.

Dear god, what’s happening to me?

We’ve made some great friends. Okay, so Danny made them, and I don’t hate them, which is a huge

plus. I already told you about Silvia, the petite jazz singer with the deep, raspy voice (who smokes like a

chimney, and drinks us all under the table). There’s also Anton, this cool artist Danny met at a

supermarket (how does one make friends with artists at supermarkets, for crying out loud?), Gabriel the

gorgeous singer-songwriter, and Marie the Lesbian, who’s an amusingly foul-mouthed cab-driver and

reminds me way too much of Anna, but kinda in a good way. There’s tons more people and I don’t yet

remember everyone’s names (D suggests that’s something I could work on - bah!), but we hang out on a

regular basis, and they try to teach us Berlin speak.

We go out a lot now, mostly to all those little jazz clubs and awesome cabarets they have here. I may

have started to like going out. What’s wrong with me? Am I turning into a normal person?!

Danny is putting together a band, did he tell you? I actually look forward to future jamming sessions

at our place. I did mention the piano, right? (We need to talk more often, time-zones and international

call fares be damned!) Anyway, there’s a black Steinway grand piano in the concert hall Grazzo calls

living room. I may be making Danny practice on it way more than he needs. But damn, I love watching

him play and get lost in the music. It gives me funny feelings inside, if you know what I mean.

On that shockingly mushy note, I’ll leave you because class starts in half an hour and I gotta hit the

road. Do tell me more about your adventures at good ol’ Woodhaven, would you? I never would have

thought so, but I may just be missing the place a tiny little. Go figure.

I almost forgot - Danny says to say hi and tell you to “go get the jock” - whatever that might mean.

I’ll let you two have your little secrets.

…Okay, spill. Who is this mysterious jock? Is it Mac? I hope it is. He seems nice enough from how

you talk about him. Bring him along when you come to visit! After all, I have to make sure he’s good

enough for you.

Take care for now, you crazy dog,

James

THE END

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About Susann Julieva

Susann Julieva was born and raised in Germany, where she is currently at work on her next novel.

When she doesn’t write, she reads. She can never say no to a good movie, loves cats, chocolate,

traveling, and calls fandom her true home.

For more information and other publications by Susann Julieva, please visit

www.susannjulieva.com