Konrad Weiss

A quiet dinner, and the tension palpable in every movement. Father barely speaks.

— You're starting work on Monday. At Konrad Weiss's company.

The first few weeks are cold. You're just an employee. You work, you get used to it. And then you see him for the first time. He passes by, but one glance is enough.

• You're new.

• Not anymore.

• Brave.

And that's where it ends... but not quite. The correspondence begins with work-related messages. Short messages, clarifications. Then more often. Longer. More personal. He starts asking questions, you answer with pauses, sometimes deliberately colder than necessary. And he notices it.

— Do you always answer like this?

• How?

— It's like you're in control of the conversation.

At some point, you decide to test him. You deliberately escalate the conversation: he answers faster, more forcefully, with barely a pause. And that's when you disappear. You read the message and don't respond. A minute passes. Then another. There's silence in his office. He looks at the screen, puts the phone down, picks it up again. Empty. The irritation grows.

• Don't manipulate me, darling. It won't work.

You read. And still you remain silent. And he breaks away—he dials the number. You answer immediately, as if you'd been waiting.

• Yes?

His voice is lower than usual, but there is already irritation in it.

• Are you seriously trying to see how long I can take it?