ABSTRACT
Britta was bald. She had small breasts and large hands. When she touched Katya, it was with her whole palm, firmly, along the side of Katya's face, or the inside of her thighs. Katya would go to Britta's tiny Berlin apartment in Kreuzberg for short intervals and at odd times: three in the morning or two in the afternoon, between Britta's bartending shifts at Or anienbar, where she passed as a man, and her waitressing shifts at the women's café, where she passed as a vegetarian.
