Ruth wanted to be home in Eimsbüttel before five, with enough time to make tea and unpack her sister’s jars of plum jam. At Hamburg Hauptbahnhof, she stepped off the regional train from Kiel behind a family with two bicycles and a man carrying a cello. Beside the door stood a black hard-shell suitcase with a red ribbon on the handle, exactly like hers. Ruth took it, crossed the platform, and caught the M4 bus at the station entrance.
At home, she put the suitcase on her kitchen table and tried the combination lock. Her own number, 341, did not work. The lock opened at 000. Inside lay a yellow wig, a pair of enormous red shoes, a striped jacket, white gloves, and a round red nose in a small plastic box.
Ruth lifted the jacket with two fingers and found a luggage tag sewn into the lining. It said, “Milo,” followed by a mobile number. She called it while the kettle began to whistle. A man answered at once. “Please tell me you have a black suitcase with a red ribbon,” he said.
“I do,” Ruth said. “Then you have my work clothes.” He spoke quickly, but not loudly. “I am performing tonight at the circus tent on Heiligengeistfeld. At seven. Without that suitcase, I am a man in grey trousers.” Ruth looked at the yellow wig on her table. “Where is my suitcase?” she asked. “At the tent,” Milo said. “I found your address on the tag. I brought it here because I thought you would call.”
Ruth put the red nose back in its box and closed the suitcase. “I will bring yours,” she said. She drank her tea standing up, put on her raincoat, and carried the suitcase back to the M4 stop. At Feldstraße, the wind turned her umbrella inside out once. She folded it, put it under her arm, and continued across the wet pavement.
The circus tent was white with red flags, and a woman at the ticket window pointed Ruth toward a side entrance. Milo met her there in grey trousers and socks. He took the suitcase, opened it, and held up the red nose as if checking that it had survived a long sea voyage. Then he handed Ruth her own suitcase and a paper ticket. “Front row,” he said. “You have earned a seat where I can keep an eye on my luggage.”
At seven, Ruth sat in the front row with her suitcase between her shoes. Milo entered the ring in his striped jacket, yellow wig, and red shoes. He saw Ruth, stopped, and pulled a red ribbon from his sleeve. He tied it carefully around his hat. Ruth raised her cup of circus coffee, and Milo bowed to her before falling, very slowly, into a bucket.