Coming Home

A small vignette from a week away.

Coming Home

The two hotel shopkeepers, a man and a woman, stood by the window, arranging the stands of necklaces, bracelets, and beach hats. Jim was sitting in the lobby, reading a book, though really, he was watching the shopkeepers.

They were discussing in Greek how the stands should be presented. The man kept moving the same row of bracelets higher and then lower again on the stand. He wore a pair of yellow glasses.

Jim checked the time. There were roughly four hours, give or take, before the taxi to the airport was due to collect him and his wife, Jessica, who was asleep on the seat opposite. He smiled at her, even though she was sleeping.

The man in the shop gestured with his hands as though he were explaining some highbrow theory concerning the optimal placement of bracelets. He had an easy charm about him. The woman listened, amused and interested.

Jim went back to reading, the occasional hotel guest flip-flopping to and from the shop next to where he was sitting. The next time he looked up, there was a lady in a white linen shirt -- worn like a dress over her bikini -- perusing the jewellery and beach hats. She tried on a floppy hat, then decided on a necklace -- light blue like the Mediterranean Sea in the morning.

"What's the time?" Jessica said, waking up.

"Five past four."

"Oh, wow. Already? How long was I asleep?"

"About an hour or so."

Three people had come and gone from the shop to buy necklaces and bracelets during the time that Jessica had slept.

"Sorry about not being social and just sleeping," Jessica said.

"No need to be sorry," said Jim. "You need all the rest you can get at the moment."

"I'm feeling much better," Jessica said. "I can feel him moving again today."