ACT ONE: Open on a small cafe, window facing the street. It is a gray day and clouds hang overhead. A dark-haired mustachioed man sits idly twirling a spoon in a cup of steaming hot tea. He sighs heavily and looks up, his eyes widening at what he sees.
ACT TWO: Her hair was dark and luxurious, her bosum ample, her figure svelte in a tight military uniform. She entered the cafe and sat across from him, looking directly into his eyes. "So," she said. "I am answering your personal ad in Das Reich. However, if anyone asks, we will say we met . . . another way."
ACT THREE: He looks at her. Looks away. They have an awkward cup of coffee. He says nothing to her the whole time. Her face as they leave: Let's not meet again. Later, he would write paragraphs about his love for her. Declare death on anyone who looked at her with an admiring glance. Plan to kidnap her and jump off a bridge into the Danube. Instead, he would move to Vienna.