Weary Arms

The Night-Clerk showed him in, and seemed relived when he smiled so broadly. Snow fell from Lyosha’s fur hat and wide shoulders as he deposited his tattered valise on what remained of the old stained carpet. What Lyosha saw pleased him. A small worn suite of rooms perfectly suited for his stay of indeterminate length. “Very nice for me” he said. Nodding the night-man added, “yeah, not bad, but trouble with the toilet and television sometimes.” Lyosha was grateful for the offered punch-line, even in English he knew this one. “So” Lyosha said “you are saying is nothing on TV but shit?” They both laughed as the key was passed. He had made his first friend on these alien shores.

by-Doug Mathewson