“Uh, do you see this.” I asked her.
“What?”
“Gum.” There was a chewed piece of gum that had been left on the plate.

“I don’t think they like me”, I said.
“I think they just forgot it. The cook or something.”
“Well you can finish it.”
Neither one of us finished the rest. We paid, tipped, and walked outside.

In an jovial, drunken flash two men approach us. They put their arm around me and start to speak an incomprehensible dialect. They are very friendly, but we are not in the mood to make friends. I watch Joyce’s bag carefully. My travelor’s wallet is tucked too far for pickpocketing. After a few nao obrigads, the men are gone. Nothing’s missing.

We lazily walk about the city and land in the Sqaure de coco. We talk about my relationships with other women and do what people who were once in love with each other do – we reminisce.

At sun down we find our way back to the shuttle and return to the hotel for a safe dinner.