Nothing Personal

The family had improvised beds with chairs and they were all sound asleep, wrapped up in their coats and jackets. The old man was done cleaning and gone—Silvia pictured him sleeping in some small backroom, to an old record player spinning a Sinatra album.

At the hall, she showed Jay how to make the coffee machine work. His triumphant grin when he was able to get his own coffee made her chuckle again.

“This fucking junk made me sweat for nothing,” he said, and glanced at Silvia. “If you forgive my French.”

She pretended to be shocked and crossed herself. Jay narrowed his eyes, raising only one eyebrow.

They were still suffocating their giggles as they tiptoed across the waiting room back to their corner.

As they sat back down, Silvia thought that it looked like both of them had decided to put behind their rough start, acknowledging it’d be easier to bear the situation together.

“So, Argentina,” Jay said. “Buenos… Aires? Heard it’s a big city.”

“Yeah, too big for my guts.”

“You don’t li