Tales From Another Country

“Thank you,” he said, wanting to part in a mannerly way. “I hope I was everything you wanted.” His voice was warm and his smile wide.

“Goodbye,” Lev said.

The door closed in Daniel’s face.

He turned from the room to go towards the lift. Through the long window at the end of the corridor bright sunlight was streaming in. For the first time since he’d left home the previous night he became aware of a sensation in his body: a growling, guttural hunger. He checked his watch. It was only eight o’ clock. He would be home by nine, and he already pictured them sitting there, his father and mother and grandma together in the tiny room, surrounded by his grandpa’s personal things. He saw it as he might in a dream: he’d enter and they’d ask him how work had been, and he’d give them his money and invent the story of his night. With a pat on the head they’d thank him, say that if grandpa could see his special boy now the old man would be filled with pride.

Stepping into the lift, the little bag held close to his side, Daniel knew such words were true. But he blocked them out. Morning washed over him, the past receded like a foreign land, and did not return until the coming of night.

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