Jöran, dressed in his grey cotton shorts and working boots, was measuring the distance from one wall to the other. With arms outstretched and the pose of a tightrope walker, he paced the bare floorboards heel to toe. “ Yes,” he said, without looking up. “Not only to work as her gardener. She said I can use this for my office.” Rose pushed herself away from the door and took two steps toward him. “How clever of you, darling.” She moved her mouth up to his and cupped her hand inside the expanding pouch of his pants. “Now I can see you whenever I like.” She pulled him over to the window. Jöran gave a cursory glance towards the house. “ Don't worry, she won't be back for at least half an hour.” Rose placed her outstretched hand on the dusty window ledge and looked over her shoulder. “I was watching over the wall, you know.” “ Yes I did hear you. I think that you fell. I hope you did not hurt.” With one elbow supported on the windowsill and both feet spaced apart, Rose slid her. He shook his head experimentally, nothing fell out and he didn’t have a headache. Last night’s events were just too fuzzy to recall in any detail. ‘What time did I get in, anyway,’ he asked his roommate. Ken laughed. ‘Four in the morning, my friend, and I had to threaten you with violence to keep you from singing Barry Manilow songs for more than thirty seconds.’ Ken directed Jack’s attention to a large manila envelope on the breakfast table, which turned out to hold Jack’s instructions for the weekend. The list was short: meet the group Friday at 4pm by the campus store, bring toiletries, necessary medications, comfortable footwear, loose fitting sweatpants, necessary underwear and three shirts. He looked a second time, then checked in the envelope as a thought occurred to him. No, there wasn’t anything mentioned about money. Come to think of it, from what little Jack could recall of the previous evening the topic of payment had never come up. He asked Ken, who mumbled something.
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