by M.J. Rose

There were enough seats on the tram to Grinzing where the Heligenstadt House was so that Ethan and Giselle found two side by side. The seat facing Ethan was empty, but the one opposite Giselle was occupied by a woman in her sixties who held a small mirror in one hand and a tube of vermilion lipstick in her other. There was a slight indent and pale strip of skin on her left ring finger where a wedding band had dug into her flesh for perhaps forty years. But those years had not slowed her dexterity for applying makeup on a moving vehicle.

Ethan thought there was something odd about a woman of her age and obvious good breeding primping in a public place.

Under her black wool coat, she was dressed in a wine-colored dress and chantilly lace, the city’s splendor echoing in the dress’s frill and reserved charm.

Ethan stretched his legs and unconsciously put his feet up on the seat opposite him.

Entfernen Sie Ihre Füße von dem Sitz! the woman snapped at him. He noticed a glint of the future in her still-vibrant blue eyes.

No need to understand German to know what was being said. Giselle watched Ethan remove his feet from the seat and smiled at him. You just got a tongue lashing, she said. I take it you don't need a literal translation?

No, I got the point.

The trolley car creaked and swayed from the people coming on and getting off at the next stop. Although the public transport was on the honor system, people queued up to pay.

Ethan noticed the woman who sat diagonal to him had shifted so that now she looked out the window, making an effort to avoid looking inside the trolley.

An elderly man carrying a small leather briefcase took the seat where Ethan had rested his feet. His hair and groomed handlebar mustache shone the silver of a Gustav Klimt painting.

The Frau opened her hands in her lap. Her palms told nothing of her years. They were fresh and young under a slight layer of perspiration.

Taking a monogrammed handkerchief from her purse, she held it as if waiting for something. Then the tram jerked forward and the hanky fluttered to the floor. Leaning forward, she seemed about to reach for it, but hesitated.

The gray-haired man picked it up, and with a flourish, offered the linen square back to the Frau.

She thanked him with practiced surprise.

Their eyes held. He smiled, tipped his hat deftly, stood, and exited.

Once more the tram started moving.

For a reason Ethan could not surmise, he put his feet back on the gentleman's now vacant seat.

The woman watched him, but this time said nothing as the tram continued on its way.