All Quiet on the Orient Express

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“I thought I’d better catch you before you go,” he said. “Expect you’ll be leaving today, will you?”

“Hadn’t planned to,” I replied.

“A lot of people choose to leave on Monday mornings.”

“Well, I thought I’d give it another week, actually. The weather seems quite nice.”

“So you’re staying on then?”

“If that’s alright with you.”

“Of course it is,” he said. “You’re welcome to stay as long as you like.”

I’d been wondering when he would come to collect the rent. Several times in the past few days he’d gone round calling on everyone else, but for some reason he kept leaving me out. Now, on the sixth morning, he had finally made his approach. I emerged from my tent, barefoot, and the conversation continued.

“Nice place you’ve got here.”

“Yes,” he said. “We like it very much. Of course, I’ve been here all my life, so I don’t know any different.”

“Suppose not.”

“But everyone who comes here says they like it.”

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