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- Herausgeber: tredition
- Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
- Sprache: Englisch
Ob es eine alte Liebe ist, die verzweifelt wiederbelebt werden soll, oder der Verlust einer Mutter, die man nie gehabt hat: Die fünf Kurzgeschichten der Anthologie MÄNNER MIT FRAUEN handeln jede auf ihre Art davon, was Männern mit Frauen passieren kann, warum Männer ohne Frauen nicht leben können. Und wie es sich anfühlt, wenn sie es doch versuchen. Dabei navigieren die einzelnen Geschichten, jede für sich, auf einem schmalen Grat: entweder zwischen Erzählung und Tragödie, bitterer Ironie und Situationskomik, Psychologie und Beziehungsstress.
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Seitenzahl: 34
Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2025
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Max and Jochen List are both copywriters and live in Berlin and Bavaria.
This is the first work of fiction to be published by either of them.
Apart from that, they can look back on a considerable number of advertising texts of various kinds, for which they have received numerous awards.
"And the courage has grown so tired and the longing so great."
R.M. Rilke
Jochen List, Max List
MEN with WOMEN
Five Short Stories
© 2025 LIST&LIST
Cover design by: Franziska Saischek, Peter Münch Editing: Alpha Communication / Regensburg / Germany Organization: Helena Piwonka
Printing and distribution on behalf of the authors:
tredition GmbH, Heinz-Beusen-Stieg 5, 22926 Ahrensburg, Deutschland
This work, including its parts, is protected by copyright. The authors are responsible for its content. Any use without their consent is prohibited. Publication and distribution are carried out on behalf of the authors, who can be reached at:
tredition GmbH, “Impressum Service” Department, Heinz-Beusen-Stieg 5, 22926 Ahrensburg, Germany.
Contact address pursuant to the EU Product Safety Regulation: [email protected]
ISBN 978-3-384-70046-9
To Sabine
Contents
Cover
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
She
Emergency Room
The Gypsy
The Fall
Mother
MEN WITH WOMEN
Cover
Epigraph
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
She
Mother
MEN WITH WOMEN
Cover
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
SHE
When he opened his eyes, having felt the cat settle on top of him, the whole porch was filled with the scent of moss, grass, and earth—and of the trees, whose smell seemed only intensified by the heat.
He had retreated to his grandmother’s old cottage and had been gazing for weeks from the hills over the valley where he’d grown up, and the river—his river—about which he had read everything, and which he visited or watched as often as he could, never tiring of its beauty and majesty.
He had been up here alone for so many weeks he no longer knew how many.
He had fled everything and everyone when the thing with his brother happened—the worst thing that can happen to someone.
Now he was waiting.
Waiting until he no longer heard the loud gunshot every night.
Until the smell of burnt gunpowder no longer clung to him.
And the smell of blood—his brother’s blood—which had been everywhere.
He could no longer sleep indoors and now lay on a bench on the porch, looking up into the night sky, which that day seemed unnaturally bright and scattered with stars.
He placed his hand on the cat when a woman’s voice quietly said:
“Hello Gabriel, it’s been a long time, hasn’t it? ”
And before he could be startled or say anything, he felt her lips on his.
And smelled her perfume.
Her perfume. The scent he had first noticed when she passed him a few times—seemingly by chance—in the reading room of the university library.
Wrapped in the wave of an expensive French fragrance called Nuit Étoilée, whose aromatic and woody notes he’d never smelled on anyone before.
Even minutes after she’d walked by the reading room had turned into the clearing of a dew-drenched nighttime forest, over which lay the scent of nature itself.
That had been so long ago, he had almost forgotten it—until just now.
“What are you doing here, after all these years? And how did you even find this place? ” he heard himself ask.
“I came because I’ve missed you all these years. And I wanted to talk to you, ” she said.
“Father sends his regards, by the way. ”
