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Summary
It’s sometime in the afternoon the following day when Joe wakes for the fourth or so time. For a few moments he doesn’t open his eyes, trying to decide if he’ll let himself drift off again. He can just about hear the market, the distant sounds of people and movement barely reaching him outside the hotel grounds.
A stray cat is curled up on the rug in a patch of sunlight; Joe huffs, following her lead and rolling towards the window, crow’s feet deepening as he squints for the brightness in his eyes. He reaches awkwardly to stroke her ears, letting her sniff his fingers before opening his palm for her to lift her little head into.
Outside, oranges weigh down their branches, a sighing tree in the warm breeze making the sun blink drowsily between green-leaved eyelids. Below open shutters, he can hear Nicky’s voice, speaking to someone in Darija. It draws closer as he walks through the courtyard; Joe can’t hear another voice. A phone call, probably. Andromache, certainly.
Marrakesh will always smell like oranges.
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Bookmark Notes:
Very lovely, set just before the movie starts.