Six hours later, Wazzer is lying in bed, listening to the rain. Tomorrow, her last lover from the summer, Otto, is getting on the plane back to Amsterdam. But she’s cheerful nonetheless. It’s still a day off. And Otto is beside her in the bed.
Otto is gazing at the ceiling, compulsively crumpling one of the condom packets in his fingers. “This weather…it is almost like winter now…the bleakness and the rain. It haunts me. Summer in Europe, it is more gentle than here, but it is still summer. That is why I must go, even though it is less free there. Do you ever feel the late autumn slide into your heart, and turn into sadness?”
“Nope,” she says, half-touched and half-amused at his Eurodrama.
Otto turns to her. “You mean you are happy all the time?”
“Yeah, pretty much.”
Otto smiles in amazement. “So lucky. People pay their doctors to feel like that…”
“Not me, mate. I just get out and do shit, y’know?”
To her surprise, Otto goes beyond agreeing with her. “You want to come to Holland?”
Wazzer blinks. “I….me?….I”ve always wanted to – I really like you – but here, I’ve got…” She trails off, thinking. “Ya know what? Let’s stay in touch. When I get this tattoo finished, ” she gestures at one arm, “if we’re still into it, I’ll let you know.”
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