What narrative situation by using Stanzel´s typological circle is seen here A woman sat in a hotel bar, watching the door. Her appearance was neat and tidy: white blouse, fair hair tucked behind her ears. She glanced at the screen of her phone, on which was displayed a messaging interface, and then looked back at the door again. It was late March, the bar was quiet, and outside the window to her right the sun was beginning to set over the Atlantic. It was four minutes past seven, and then five, six minutes past. Briefly and with no perceptible interest she examined her fingernails. At eight minutes past seven, a man entered through the door. He was slight and dark-haired, with a narrow face. He looked around, scanning the faces of the other patrons, and then took his phone out and checked the screen. […] They appeared to be about the same age, in their late twenties or early thirties. She let him stand there until he saw her and came over. Are you Alice? he said. That’s me, she replied. Yeah, I’m Felix. Sorry I’m late. In a gentle tone she replied: That’s alright. He asked her what she wanted to drink and then went to the bar to order. The waitress asked how he was getting on, and he answered: Good yeah, yourself? He ordered a vodka tonic and a pint of lager. Rather than carrying the bottle of tonic back to the table, he emptied it into the glass with a quick […] movement of his wrist. The woman at the table tapped her fingers on a beermat, waiting. Her outward attitude had become more alert and lively since the man had entered the room. She looked outside now at the sunset as if it were of interest to her, though she hadn’t paid attention to it before. When the man returned and put the drinks down, a drop of lager spilled over and she watched its rapid progress down the side of the glass. You were saying you just moved here, he said. Is that right? She nodded, sipped her drink, licked her top lip. What did you do that for? he asked. What do you mean?
What narrative situation by using Stanzel´s typological circle is seen here
A woman sat in a hotel bar, watching the door. Her appearance was neat and tidy: white blouse, fair hair tucked behind her ears. She glanced at the screen of her phone, on which was displayed a messaging interface, and then looked back at the door again. It was late March, the bar was quiet, and outside the window to her right the sun was beginning to set over the Atlantic. It was four minutes past seven, and then five, six minutes past. Briefly and with no perceptible interest she examined her fingernails. At eight minutes past seven, a man entered through the door. He was slight and dark-haired, with a narrow face. He looked around, scanning the faces of the other patrons, and then took his phone out and checked the screen. […] They appeared to be about the same age, in their late twenties or early thirties. She let him stand there until he saw her and came over.
Are you Alice? he said.
That’s me, she replied.
Yeah, I’m Felix. Sorry I’m late.
In a gentle tone she replied: That’s alright. He asked her what she wanted to drink and then went to the bar to order. The waitress asked how he was getting on, and he answered: Good yeah, yourself? He ordered a vodka tonic and a pint of lager. Rather than carrying the bottle of tonic back to the table, he emptied it into the glass with a quick […] movement of his wrist. The woman at the table tapped her fingers on a beermat, waiting. Her outward attitude had become more alert and lively since the man had entered the room. She looked outside now at the sunset as if it were of interest to her, though she hadn’t paid attention to it before. When the man returned and put the drinks down, a drop of lager spilled over and she watched its rapid progress down the side of the glass.
You were saying you just moved here, he said. Is that right?
She nodded, sipped her drink, licked her top lip.
What did you do that for? he asked.
What do you mean?
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