Crybaby

Nantes, France, the previous year...

"I'm fed up! I have soft skin, in my bubble bath, I splash around, and I laugh!" Eugene-Chan sang, swaying his hips sensually beside the small Volkswagen they used to drive around in. It was obvious he was drunk.

Sotomayor just watched him from the sidewalk. They had been in that small village near the city of Nantes for about three days. She looked around at the small colonial-style houses and felt like she was part of one of those medieval paintings.

Soon, the rain began to fall. Sotomayor ran toward where the writer was, but Eugene-Chan simply opened his arms and lifted his head to the sky.

"Rain, rain, drench my body! Sotomayor, come get wet with me!" He grabbed her hands and forced her to dance with him in the rain while he continued singing, "My fish moves in my bubble bath, I wrap it up, I say to it!"

It was one of those “short” trips the writer often took. One day, without warning, he appeared in front of Sotomayor and said:

"We’re leaving!