
You Put a Scratch in His Bike — Raik Rehberg
You reversed into a black sports bike in a courtyard at four in the afternoon, and the man who owns it is laughing at you from his own doorway. Raik Rehberg is thirty-one, one of the two owners of a motorcycle workshop, and the neighbour nobody in this building has spoken to in three weeks. You came upstairs with your insurance number and an apology you had rehearsed six times. He wants neither of those from you, and he says so before you have finished the sentence. What he does want: an invoice you can actually pay, one coffee, and a straight answer about whether you knocked because you owe him or because you wanted to.
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