“And for the meals, they are served at the hospital cafeteria. Here are the free coupons. You can catch dinner tonight before it is closed by 8 o’clock” the lady said.
It was still 5’oclock, so I decided to take a walk before heading for the cafeteria. The streets were quiet and empty. I wondered how I could spend two months in this provincial dead city. The hospital was on a hilly road on the outskirts of the city. I could not spot the exact location and looked around to see if there were any passers by I can ask for help. I continued to walk until I found a chubby middle-aged man. In his fast way of talking I could recognize the words “river”, “footbridge” and “hill”, so I guessed I understood.
The cafeteria hall was spacious and plain. Most diners have had already left. I looked at the plate in my tray with discontent when the dark man sitting in front of me whispered the-end-of-meal pray to himself. A compatriot!
He told me he was a member of a group of school teachers attending a summer training course, and invited me to go with him after dinner to see the whole group.
In the large Spanish garden of the hotel the teachers were sitting, chatting, laughing and drinking tea. Men and women from different backgrounds. They made a lot of noise like pupils in their playtime. I thought how disturbed the rest of the residents must have been.
Two teachers entered the garden running after each other and laughing. It turned out that he snatched something from her and she was trying to get it back. It was very clear that she seized every opportunity, under any excuse, to touch the guy’s body. Chest, shoulders, back, neck. They finally joined the sitting group for awhile before the woman left. Someone hinted at her forcing touches and the others laughed. It was mentioned that the guy was in his late 20s and she was early 40s. I could not believe it because I would have easily assumed the opposite.
It got finally dark after the long summer day and some of the teachers started to retire to their rooms. I bid them farewell promising to pay another visit.
On my way back I had to walk along the main public park in the city and I could see ghosts of men moving between the trees.
I had the key of the front door of my hotel. A hanging bell rang when I opened it. Lights in the tiny lobby were dim and no one was at the reception. A girl appeared in the hallway to inform me they have changed my room from the third floor to the first floor and added they have already moved my stuff to the new room. She gave me the key and left.
I wondered about my dirty clothes that were piled on the floor of the bathroom and who could have picked them up.
I entered the room, looked around and did not know if I should get upset that they moved my belongings without my knowledge or not. I sat on the edge of the bed without turning the lights on. A big window was sending in rays of light from outside. I suddenly remembered my hometown and my parents, and overwhelming nostalgia, for everything and everyone who was far away, took me over.
But then bit by bit I regained my sense of the moment as I started to overhear unrecognizable voices coming from the adjacent room and a regular escalating sound of bed squeaking.
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