2009

Following Francois into the kitchen, I say, "Francois, you remember meeting Kenny yesterday, right?" "Kenny?" "At the Refuge." "Where?" He is rummaging in the fridge, first taking out the huge container of potato salad which he drops onto the counter. "You don't remember?" And now my friend is standing leaning against the counter with his fingertips pressed to his forehead, as though enduring intense pain. "i can't talk about this right now", he says, returning now to the fridge. "Well, they're on their way over for lunch, right now, and should be arriving any minute." "Who?" "Kenny...and Amaris. The woman we also met there." "How do you know it's really him", says Francois, fixing widened and scared eyes on me. "Quite simple. When I texted him this morning, I did not give him the address. He lived here with us for five years. It it's really him, they will both find their way here without any help from me."