Then I took a long hot shower, soaping myself with an amber-scented bath foam that I’d bought years earlier but never opened because I was waiting for the right occasion. The right occasion had never arrived.
When I walked back into the living room, in my bathrobe, I said out loud that I didn’t want to be alone that evening, and that I intended to go see Nadia and old Baskerville.
“Forgive me, Mister Bag, it’s not that I don’t enjoy your company. Quite the contrary. It’s just that sometimes, you really can be a little too taciturn.”
Once I got outside, I realized that the city had turned silent, and the wind had died down, leaving only a slight scent of the sea in the air. The night once again seemed like a tranquil, welcoming place.
So I got on my bike and started pedaling fast down the deserted street.