an autoethnographic vignette of when ger brought me the industrial size ash tray.

I was outside drinking coffee and he came out to smoke but passed me the ashtray despite me not smoking or asking for it. He's a local and I'm a blow in expat, hence there's a power balance (also, he's a wealthy male and I'm a disabled female), made a quick joke and dashed back inside.

It was so charming the conclusion is that we're in love... Even silently across the shared spaces of brax. Moments arise and feelings are made known. It's very tender.