Early morning breakfast in the hotel. . .
‘How are you today?’ she asks.
‘Ok—half asleep,’ I answer, gulping down my tea in order to reply.
‘You should say—I am beautiful—then you will feel good too.
‘Ok,’ I mumble. Then deciding to return the sentiment, I ask: ‘So . . . how are you?’
‘Beautiful!’ she says, from over her shoulder, with a sly smile—as she wanders off to the other side of the marble-floored, dining room, to relieve a table of its dirty crockery.