Nuts in the tram number 6(Dill McLain) As in all cemeteries, a tremendous calm and mystical aura spread this morning over the graves, bushes and paths. Vic looked at his watch and sighed. It was already just after eleven o'clock, and he had to hurry to enjoy a second coffee and a roll in town before the working world went out for lunch and filled the restaurants. He slowly hobbled down the path and cursed inwardly because he had forgotten his walking stick. Vic saw people in dark clothing hugging each other between the bushes and trees, over by the cemetery building, apparently after a funeral.
Well, it's all our turn at some point, thought Vic, shrugging his shoulders. In the third phase of life, one does have thoughts about death coming up now and again.

A woman was walking in front of him, limping slightly, and Vic immediately felt solidarity. She was wearing a smartly cut pantsuit in dark purple, with a silk scarf in the same colour that fluttered somewhat over her back as she walked. Her medium-length blonde hair was tied back with a shiny clip. She paused momentarily and opened the outside pocket of a unique piece of luggage that probably contained a musical instrument, to look for something. Vic overtook her and noticed from behind his sunglasses that she was a beautiful lady, perhaps not far from his age.

Before he passed through the gate, he looked back cautiously. The lady seemed to be reading a message on her mobile. Then, he walked as quickly as possible towards the tram stop, where a lot of people had already gathered, probably participants from the funeral ceremony as well as the usual walkers and visitors to the nearby Zoo. It was unclear whether he would be able to get a seat on the tram.

When the tram arrived, he moved elegantly through the waiting crowd and quickly climbed into the back carriage, gritting his teeth briefly because his ankle was hurting. He then plopped down onto a free two-seater seat and breathed a sigh of relief, glancing through the window at the cemetery. The tram filled up quickly, and the seat next to him was also taken. He slowly turned his head and saw the lady in purple from before sitting next to him. She also seemed to breathe a sigh of relief. Vic nodded briefly at her. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw that she was holding sheet music in her hands, which she now placed on the piece of luggage on her knees to make notes. Aha, she must be a musician, thought Vic and nodded again in satisfaction because he always liked musical people. There was just something special about them because they could dive into another world.

The tram started its journey towards the city centre, but first, it went steeply downhill for several stops. Shortly after the first stop, the tram halted abruptly with a corresponding noise. The passengers were quite shaken, some flew forward, trying to find something to hold on to, bags fell to the floor, and a few cries could be heard. From the rear car, it was obviously not possible to determine what had happened. But then an announcement came that an accident had happened which involved two vehicles and a cyclist. As one car was standing with its rear wheels on the tracks, it would probably take a while before the journey could continue because first, the police had to arrive and do what was necessary. The hurried passengers could now get off and walk.

“Phew, then my late-morning coffee and croissant are ruined!” Vic exclaimed with a sympathetic look at the woman sitting next to him.

“Well, you can get out and walk down. Nobody is holding you back!” she countered without looking up.

“No, that's not possible. I have a sprained right ankle!” he said reproachfully and added, “You don’t get out and walk down the hill either!”

“It doesn’t work for me either. I have a new hip and I can't walk quickly yet, especially after I had to stand for about 20 minutes during the abdication because I had to play - and I had to do it standing up - in order to perfectly time the music between the speakers!” She explained, this time looking directly into his face.

Vic looked back majestically and asked, "Am I right in assuming that you play either the flute or the oboe?"

That was a pretty accurate guess because she was visibly amazed and replied with a slight smile, which suited her well, "Bingo, I play both!" After a pause, she quickly added, “I'm done with my concert career in an orchestra. I'm now working as a studio musician, and I compose film music - it's going quite well - and I take on private performances every now and then!”

“Great, I could hire you for a private performance, an afternoon serenade with tea or champagne!” Vic didn't really know how he came to say something like that. Actually, he wanted to run away or disappear into the ground.

The cold shower came without hesitation, "So you've probably lost your mind, gone mad, or it is simply your dull trick. I'm not an escort girl, I'm not looking for adventure, and I'd probably be too expensive for you – apart from being too old for laborious trysts!" Shaking her head, she turned back to her sheet music.

Vic tried efficiently to fix the mess. He dug into his designer backpack and asked almost caringly, "Would you like some nuts? I've got some!" he expectantly held out a bag of an exclusive nut mix. It was a direct hit because she slowly raised her head, smiled at him, and nodded amusedly. She held her hands to him, and he poured some nut mixture into them. After that, she started nibbling happily and wanted to know how he got the sprained foot. Vic grinned and explained, "Oh, it happened at Richard Wagner's ‘Götterdämmerung’ last week. I went to the toilet during the break before the last almost endless act. There was a long queue. When I came out, everyone was already inside, and I hurried up the stairs to the second tier - my favourite place - stumbling badly. I had to watch the whole act on the emergency folding seat because I could stretch my leg there!"

"For heaven's sake, why didn't you immediately get into a taxi to the doctor as an emergency?" she wanted to know, horrified.

"That wasn't possible because I had to watch the performance to the end to write the commentary in my column!"

Now she paused the nibble on nuts and wanted to know in astonishment, "What column, what commentary?" He turned to her and introduced himself with his first and last name. Now she opened her mouth briefly in astonishment and asked, "What, you are the author, Vic Bremer, of the weekly culture column with the main focus on music? I am a huge fan. You always write upbeat and highlight the beautiful, successful aspects - while others usually report more negatively, just to bluff!"
“What did you do at the cemetery this morning?” she asked.

Vic replied with a smile, "I was at James Joyce's grave to take a few good photos with his sculpture in the background. A former work colleague who is pensioned like me is giving a literature lecture to a senior citizens' group tomorrow and he wants to show a corresponding picture on the big screen during his presentation." Vic added with a challenging look at her, "And who do I have the pleasure of meeting?"

"Lois Zotto and I celebrate my 70th next month!" came her answer, accompanied by a friendly smile.

Vic cleared his throat briefly and then remarked with a resigned tone in his voice, "Well, I wouldn’t dare suggest having a small 70th-anniversary party next month together so as not to fall into the abyss again. I'll be 70 next month too!"

Lois held out her hands for another portion of nuts. She started nibbling again and looked straight ahead, obviously thinking. There were only a few passengers left on the tram. Most others had got off. A few were waiting outside, watching what was happening from a certain distance. Apparently, everything was in the operation under the direction of the police.

Vic plucked up his courage and wanted to explain his point of view and idea again, which had led him to make his misplaced suggestion from earlier. "You know, Lois, there were no seductions or late romantic intentions on my part in my cheeky suggestion regarding your afternoon performance. No, absolutely not. Something like that is not on my agenda anymore. That was all behind me long ago. My wife was seriously ill for many years, and I was, therefore, swamped caring for her in addition to my job. She died six years ago."

Lois sighed and said, "Yes, I've also lived alone for a few years. Everything else is behind me. There were nice aspects but also difficult, painful ones. I'm glad that no one is interfering with my daily routine anymore, and it's fine. I have been accused several times of being too introverted as if this were something criminal. I sometimes want to be alone with myself and my thoughts, and my creativity. Those comments really shocked me, and I swore to myself that I would never allow anyone to hurt me again."

"Oh, I understand you very well, Lois. This has also been thrown at me several times. Creative people all have this predisposition to some extent. Otherwise they couldn’t create anything. But that does not make them lesser people. In most cases, it is quite the opposite because they contribute much more when they are with others. And what I really like about this disposition is that creative people think more!”

Lois nodded hesitantly but also in amazement. Vic smiled at her briefly and continued, “Regarding relationship types, I would like to share a wonderful example. One of my good friends, a real gentleman with great manners, had a so-called ‘music, culture and travel friend’, a very attractive lady who shared most of his interests. It all started with agreed rules and led to a wonderful relationship. They lived separately in different cities but regularly spent time together and even travelled together, then, they simply booked separate rooms. They had over many years – until he died - a great friendship and a beautiful bond."

"Yes, sounds like an excellent idea in principle if both can rely on it!" Lois looked thoughtfully ahead.
The driver then announced that the journey could continue. Some people applauded, and the tram started moving. The two of them sat there in silence for a while. The nuts were eaten.

They took turns observing each other out of the corner of their eyes. Finally, Vic decided to make a strong statement, "I had a serious car accident many years ago - through no fault of my own - and since then, certain functions have been irreparably stopped. So there is nothing to fear in this regard. In other words, I am definitely not a wild Casanova!"

While she sat there wordlessly and stared at him, he slowly stood up and said, "I wish you a wonderful day and much success with your compositions. It was a great pleasure talking to you and sharing the nuts!" The tram stopped. Vic hobbled to the door, took another look at her, waved briefly, and got out.

Later that evening, after he had worked on his weekly column, Vic sat on the terrace of his condo and pondered beyond the lake. Over the hills, the moon guarded the quieting scenery. Vic thought of the morning's encounter and smiled to himself. His invitation to the lady was highly unusual, and somehow, he understood her surprise or perhaps even snub. But it had come up in him so spontaneously and was meant with deep sincerity.
He looked up at the moon and declared into the night, "I just liked this lady, and I would have loved to ride the tram with her for another two hours to explain the proposed friendship project to her in more detail!" It seemed to him that the moon was nodding in agreement. Before falling asleep, Vic sighed profoundly and held the button on the bedside lamp in his hand for a moment. Such encounters were rare, and many people didn't have time to stop and take in their happiness. He should try to find her address. Vic turned off the light and soon fell asleep, intending to wait a few days.

As one ages, one is wise enough to know that euphoric moments fade after a few days. And then everything is no longer so moving, and habit takes over. In the days that followed, Vic thought daily about the encounter on that Wednesday morning. The project remained his priority, and he couldn't get it out of his head. It became a little scary for him, but simultaneously, it made him happy.

The following Wednesday, a week after that meeting, he decided to start searching. In the middle of the afternoon, he began surfing the Internet and found some information and photos of Lois Zotto’s performances, which he studied in detail. He sat there in front of the screen, smiling, and continued to like it. And then, he came across her website, where he spent over an hour reading the posts repeatedly. He opened the contact page and sat in front of the open form that could be used to send a message. Although he had training as a journalist and had been working successfully in the field for over 50 years, he could not compose the necessary short message. He started five times and then gave up because he was worried about putting his foot in it again. At the same time, he felt a little stupid. Vic decided to wait.

As always, he read the emails that had come in after dinner. There were only a few these days, as he was, since retirement, exclusively working on a few freelance assignments and his weekly column. The piece of pear strudel fell from his fork when he saw Lois Zotto’s message and he opened it immediately, frantically. He sat there reading with great satisfaction, and happiness took hold of him. Lois wrote, " I have been thinking about our nut break on the tram and the conversation for a few days. I find your former colleague's friendship project great. On Sunday afternoon I could come by and play you my new composition (for a TV film). I'll bring a carrot cake with nuts. Is that OK?"

Vic and Lois got on brilliantly. It was as if they had known each other for a long time. Before she went home, they sat in front of his laptop and booked three consecutive evenings of opera at La Scala in Milan for the next month to celebrate their 70th birthdays. There was also a sensational art exhibition. In addition to pleasant walks and a bit of shopping, their program included espresso breaks with delicious Tremezzini and pasta with truffles.
From then on, they regularly met to do things together and maintained a wonderful friendship through thick and thin, inspiring each other and remaining creative, fulfilled with life, and happy.

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