Wednesday, November 07, 2012

#44



   We walked in silence along the pond in the center of town. Swans and ducks gracefully swam in random patterns. Patches of blue sky and moments of sunshine erased all traces of the previous night's wretched weather. Þora's flat was was in the basement of a stuccoed cube of a house near the south end of Tjarnargata; three bedrooms, a shared bath and kitchen. It had the appearance of a college dorm. Her flatmates were out.

   "I've put all your things there, on the floor of the closet." Þora said, waving at the pile of socks, shirts and pants. No shoes. As I put the shirts and pants in the duffel I felt for any things which Billy might have forgotten. There was nothing, nothing but clothes. The last sock, however, held a roll of at least thirty one-hundred dollar bills. I doubted if I could get that past the Ambassador's goons. It would be gauche to just give it to Þora, it would turn my 'fuck and run' into something even worse.

   "Þora, I've got this money. The embassy wouldn't let me keep it if they knew I had it. Would you hold it, hold it for my... daughter. Don't let on it's from me. Get her a book or a dress, just once in a while. Take her out for an ice cream, I don't know, anything you think would make her happy."

   Þora looked at me sadly and simply said "Já." Then she turned away and said "Go now." I reached out to hold her but she shook her head and moved away.

   I took my things and left and went back to the hangover shack.

   There I crashed.




Fiction


By Professor Batty




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