I TAKE MY shoes off at the door, step up and into slippers that are far too small. An old woman hinges at the hip, bowing, her body becoming a perfect right angle. Still bowing, she steps backwards until she’s behind the desk, straightens.

She says in English, ‘Your wife?’ I’m short with her. There’s a misunderstanding. I’m tired enough to not hide my meanness. Since it happened, I have this dreamy feeling, like nothing is real.