“You look so sad,” Micha said. “Is something wrong?”

“N-n-no. I just thought of something sad, that’s all.”

“Oh,” Micha said. “I sometimes think of something sad, too. I know something to bistract you.”

“Do you mean … distract me?”

“I think that’s what I mean.” Micha leaned forward and whispered secretively, “Do you want to know what happens in the fairy tale with the little cliff queen?”

“I do,” Anna answered.

Micha nodded. “Me, too. He didn’t tell me anything last night. He told me he’s got to think it up first. But I know he wrote something down. I think I know where he keeps the paper. We could take a peek, what do you think?”

“Maybe,” Anna whispered.

So Micha got up and ran to the back of the apartment. Anna washed the plates while Micha searched for the secret pages. She also did the dishes stacked next to the sink. The water wasn’t draining properly—the sink was blocked. Anna recognized the pattern on the light, cheap cutlery, another relic, like the wallpaper, from DDR times. She wondered how old Michelle had been then. Had been? Had she really thought that?

“Got them!” Micha exclaimed in triumph from the hallway, where she stood like Joan of Arc, holding a few white sheets triumphantly above her head—her own tricolor. Anna smiled. “Come to my room with me,” Joan of Arc commanded. Anna felt honored. Micha led her into a small room almost completely filled by a loft bed. Under the bed was a makeshift desk: a piece of chipboard over two sawhorses. There was no window.

“Abel built the bed,” Micha explained. “Come on. There’s room for the two of us; there’s room for Abel and me, too. Be careful … the third step is a little loose …” She handed Anna two sheets of paper, both of which were covered with tiny handwriting. “You read. Mrs. Margaret and me, we’ll listen. She’s in the story, too, remember? That’s why she wants to know what happens …”

“Of course,” Anna said. “I remember.”

“The green ship with the yellow rudder sailed northwest for three days. The wind pushed it steadily forward; the little cliff queen stood at the bow, holding Mrs. Margaret, whose blue dress with the white flowers on it fluttered in the wind. Sometimes the sea was clear for hours, like blue glass, and then they could see far into the deep, where there were violet jellyfish with silver patterns and long ruby-red tentacles more beautiful than all the summer flowers in the world.

“‘Yes, they are beautiful,’ the sea lion said, ‘but they are also dangerous. They can burn you with their beauty.’

“The sea lion swam beside the ship; from time to time he disappeared, but when the little cliff queen started thinking that the sea was too big and that she was too small and lost, he would reappear all of a sudden. At night, the little queen and Mrs. Margaret slept in the cabin of their ship. There was a broad bed there, covered in polar bear fur. Where the polar bears used to live, the sea lion explained, the ice was melting. So they had come ashore and become politicians, but before that they were forced to get rid of their coats so as not to be recognized. The sea lion collected their fur from the waves …

“One night, the little queen went up on deck to see the stars. She spotted the Big Dipper, but she also saw the outline of an apple tree and a mare and a canopy bed, all made of stars. ‘So this is where you have gotten to!’ she exclaimed in surprise. ‘How beautiful you are! The nights out here are so beautiful …’

“‘Yes, they are beautiful,’ the sea lion whispered from the black night sea. ‘But they are also cold. They can freeze you with their beauty if you look at them for too long.’

“And the little queen crawled back under the polar bear coats as quickly as she could. In the morning, the early sun was dancing on the water in red and orange sparkles, and the little cliff queen looked at the waves. ‘Maybe,’ she said to her doll, ‘it would be nice to swim next to the ship for a while like the sea lion does. The waves are so beautiful …’

“‘Yes, they are beautiful,’ the sea lion said, popping his head out of one of the froth-covered swells. ‘But they are also greedy. They can devour you if you’re not careful.’

“‘Oh!’ the little queen said. ‘Isn’t there anything that is just beautiful and not also dangerous?’

“‘Maybe we’ll find something on our journey,’ the sea lion replied. ‘But we can’t waste too much time searching. Look behind you, little queen. There is something very dangerous and not at all beautiful.’

“The little queen turned, and she saw that the black ship had come closer.

“‘Last night I swam to it,’ the sea lion told her. ‘When I reached the ship’s bow, a hunter with a robe as red as blood was standing at the wheel. He had a blond mustache and eyes the same color as yours, little queen. And on the right sleeve of his gown, a diamond was stitched—the aim of his search: your heart.’

“‘But what does he want my heart for?’ the little queen asked.

“‘He just wants to own it,’ replied the sea lion. ‘That is enough. He wants to look on its beauty and know that his hands alone can touch it.’

“‘How can you be sure of that?’ the little queen wanted to know. ‘You’re making that up, aren’t you?’

“‘I wish I was,’ the sea lion sighed. ‘But the red hunter is not unknown in these waters. He has stolen many jewels. He keeps them on his own island, far from here, for a while. One day, however, they lose their sparkle, and he grows tired of owning and touching them. So he throws them back into the sea. Your heart, little queen, is the biggest jewel in all the world. And he’s been searching for it for a long time.’

“‘What is the name of the hunter with the red robe?’ the little cliff queen asked with a shiver. ‘What shall I call him when I dream of him?’

“‘When you meet him,’ the sea lion said, ‘he will ask you to call him father.’

“On the morning of their first day at sea, they saw a light gliding over the water, flashing back and forth again and again. ‘That’s a lighthouse,’ the sea lion remarked.

“‘Oh, let’s go there!’ the little queen cried. ‘Maybe the lighthouse keeper has a cup of hot chocolate for us!’

“The sea lion turned his head toward the black ship. It had fallen back a bit. Two of its black sails seemed to be loose and not working properly, as if someone had bitten through the ropes at night. Someone who had swum near without making a sound, someone who had climbed the deck using the claws on his flippers …

“‘Very well,’ the sea lion said. ‘Our advantage should allow for a cup of hot chocolate.’

“Shortly after, they moored the ship at the lighthouse keeper’s island, and the little cliff queen went ashore with Mrs. Margaret. She took a few steps and had to laugh because she was walking with a rolling gait like a real sailor.

“‘Sea lion!’ she called out, for she wanted to show him, but when she turned back, there was a big silver-gray dog with golden eyes sitting behind her. ‘It is me,’ the silver dog said. ‘Ashore, I am something else.’

“The little queen found this strange, and she began to wonder which was the animal’s real form and if it had another.

“She knocked on the red door of the lighthouse, and the keeper opened it.

“‘Come in,’ he said. ‘I have been watching your ship through my binoculars. And I lighted your way so that you wouldn’t run onto one of the rocks that lie hidden beneath the water …’ He stroked his graying beard contentedly and adjusted his round glasses. ‘Would you like to come up for a cup of hot chocolate?’

“They followed the lighthouse keeper to the top of his lighthouse, from where you could see far, far out over the sea. The water looked so smooth from here, you couldn’t pick out the waves; it was as if there were none.

“The lighthouse keeper tied an apron over his dark blue woolen sweater and stirred the hot chocolate on his little stove.