— Damn you, Klinger! — you swore loudly, looking at the contented face of your comrade Heinz, smeared in powdered sugar and raspberry jam. From this angle, he looked more like a child who stole a doughnut and was caught off guard by his parents, who strictly forbade him to eat sweets. he always made that surprised face, as if he didn't understand why they were swearing at him, and then he continued to finish what he took. It's not surprising.

you met him at the institute and then you were still amazed at how thin he was then. curly-haired, tall and thin — a typical economist, you would never have thought that he was connected with something else. but when he introduced you to Rolf and the other members of IFA Wartburg, it turned out to be quite a pleasant experience. It's not that you helped the band write songs — rather, you encouraged them and sometimes gave them advice. Rolf and Heinz, when you brought them some treats during their hard work, were happy as rabid children, and you were pleased to see them like this.

after receiving his diploma, Klinger began to gain weight slightly. not that it bothered you, but it was becoming more and more visible. not only did his appearance indicate this, but also his addiction to food: sometimes Kempinski even gave him his share of the food, kindly brought by you. A slight sense of injustice hung in the air like a subtle hallucination, but Rolf claimed that everything was fine and you were calm.

he stole your Berliner. your Berliner, which you wanted to eat as the first meal of the day. As soon as you turned away, Heinz deftly snatched the doughnut from your hand and bit into it. an impudence!

— don't get mad, I beg you. I'll buy you another one. I'm terribly hungry! — Heinz confessed with mock insult, as if he had been accused in court, and not in an ordinary room with musical instruments. his voice came through the munching, making the situation even more comical. — you don't feel sorry for me at all...