Last night you said they might come for you tomorrow morning at 10h00, and that if you run, the Interpol would be after you. I replied I don't think these guys would lift a finger on a Sunday.
This morning I deliberately stayed in bed until I couldn't anymore. It was almost 10h. I walked out of my room and you'd left your door ajar, just enough so that I could see you packing your stuff. My heart sank a little. I opened the door to my bathroom and the scent of your aftershave assaulted me. This was when I knew you'd been in there. A bath mat was laid out in a way that screamed "please tread on me". I thought maybe it was your way of saying goodbye. I've come to the conclusion that there is one thing that doesn't get easier with age and with practice: farewells.
In the shower I thought hard about how, by now, I should be old enough to believe in coincidences. I thought about the rape allegation which they might put you away for a good five years and that which you vehemently denied. You'd said that you hadn't lost faith in your God and that justice would be served, somehow, in one of your God's mysterious ways. I remembered thinking to myself how I couldn't take any religion with any kind of seriousness at this stage. At the heart of the problem it was somebody hurting somebody else's feelings and she or he just decided to react accordingly. In the grand scheme of things we as a species haven't gotten any wiser and, to be fair, I'm patiently waiting for all the bees to just die.
By the time I was ready to face the world it was 10h22, if you'd be gone I'd have safely avoided the awkward last moment before your departure into the unknown. Carefully I marched along the hallway to the dining room. Then I saw you, sitting in the garden with the boys, smoking a cigarette. At least you were smiling at this hour, I thought to myself as I ate breakfast alone, and that was good enough for me. Somebody had left the TV on and I couldn't be bothered to turn it off. Another 30 minutes had passed when I walked out of the dining room. There was nobody left in the garden. The doorwoman let me out and I told her I'd be back around 20h. That was my uneventful Sunday morning.
