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Cafes of Berlin

Life can turn on simple decisions; I, myself, am proof that life can even be given a start based on the same. My father rode into Germany at the end of World War II, His mission: to help clean up the mess that war can leave behind. His kismet came in the form of Germanic blue eyes accompanied by a coquettish smile atop a feminine form with an intelligent mind. Paperwork was his excuse not to join his platoon on a trip to the outskirts of town; The real reason was to chase a skirt he was mesmerized with in town; What his fellow soldiers saw in the first discovery of a German Concentration Camp, scarred them for life; My father was spared that horror and that trauma to his soul that may have made it impossible for him to fall in love with my mother that afternoon. Were it not for his lame excuse; Were it not for the chance to try out his newly learned German on a beautiful girl in a beaten down city in a defeated country; I would not be typing these words in the autumn of my blessed life. There would be no author to pen this tale, No tale to tell, Had that young soldier performed his duty that day instead of drinking coffee in the cafés of Berlin. Written and posted on 1/12/2016 for the "Last Line Prompt" contest.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2016

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Date: 1/25/2016 8:24:00 PM
Cute story. Yes the latter would be much preferred to the former. Good Luck in the. Contest.
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Joe Flach
Date: 1/26/2016 11:25:00 AM
Thanks, Suzanne. I'll always accept luck whenever she sees fit to visit me.
Date: 1/12/2016 2:26:00 PM
What a great story! It's good to see you back, Joe! Love, Kim
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Joe Flach
Date: 1/12/2016 6:48:00 PM
Thanks, Kim. Yeah, I took some time off from P.S. - I am humbled you remembered me.