Drop off stuff

"I think it's a good idea to drop my stuff off" you say.

She barks orders to the driver in German, who nods. She sounds oddly authoritative, so aggressive and demeaning in her tone. Different from the polite, awkward woman who you've been speaking to.

The driver pulls up to an old German house. In the distance you can see the university building, a much more modern monstrosity made of concrete, steel and glass.

She helps you out of the car.

"Are you okay to step?" she says.

You nod. You think you're ready for this. She braces your arm as you walk outside. She shouts something in German. The driver hurriedly takes your bags into the house. You notice how firm her grip is on your arm, as if she would never let go.

You notice a young woman, with a darker complexion and straight black hair looking through the window. She's glancing up from a book, and stares at you with piercing blue eyes behind a pair of thick rimmed glasses.

"Ah, that is my beautiful daughter, Anja. Her 21st Birthday is this week." Doctor Müller says. Unlike Anja, Müller is smiling fully.

You nod.

"I never asked for your first name" you say.

"Adele. Like the singer" she says, before singing badly in falsetto and laughing.

"Two As" you say. You glance at Anja's chest, it's the same size as her mother's.

"Easy to remember."

As you step into the house, the taxicab driver stands at attention with your bags.

Adele yells at him. You feel bad, but also uncomfortable at the thought of standing up to your host.