At the film where I check the tickets, a lady shows me two digital tickets on her phone. Her husband will arrive a little later, she says. How can I recognize him, I ask. She thinks for a moment and says: “He is wearing a shirt with a blue check.” A little later, just before the performance, a man walks up, panting. “My wife…” he begins and I have difficulty recognizing the tiny blue check. It’s okay, I say.
The man, almost two meters tall and with a huge gray beard, looks at me gratefully and enters the room.
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