She thinks about Christmas as she holds the letter in her hand. Think someone sends a greeting to the festival, handwritten, only then does she notice the turquoise ink. Elisabeth knows this ink, as well as the writing. She turns the letter over, which is what she will say later, and really, it is from her friend Doris from Chemnitzstrasse. The house number is correct, the postal code is correct too, only Doris is dead. For eight years.
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