Reading a Letter Memory

Sitting in a small poorly lit room. It is almost dusk. Moritz is on the floor lying down occasionally looking up at me. You know that lift the eyebrow thing that dogs do. I am sitting in what I call a captain's chair. I'm reading something. It is a handful of papers about four or so pages. They could be a letter or some kind of report. My back is to the window where the remaining light is coming from. There is another window in the direction in which I am facing. My cot is by this window. I have mentioned this room once before, but the curtains were drawn on the other window, which apparently faces northwest direction.

I sit cross legged with my right arm bracing my head up while I hold the papers in my left hand. The paper seems thin like a rice a paper. It must be a letter since it is not typed but handwritten. The penmanship is very regular and flows gracefully. Very long round graceful strokes. I don't think I could even imitate this writing. It is very neat. Moritz looks up just before someone knocks on the door. I tell them to come in and more light floods in the room. Moritz sits up as our guest enters the room. He looks like Karl Allmenroder. He is in uniform but is not wearing a hat or coat, so it must not be that cold out.

I hastily put aside the letter in which I carefully fold up and put inside an envelope. It must be dinner hour and he came to make sure that I'd be there. We go outside and the sky is clear of any clouds. It would be a perfect time to fly. It seems strangely quiet out. Moritz tags along with us and tries to entice us to play with him. We somewhat ignore his leaps and bounds. He takes off to find someone in a more playful mood.