THIRTYIT WAS ONLY THE FIFTH hotel that allowed me to check in so early in the morning. I suppose I looked like a vagabond, smelling of seawater and looking like I’d been up all night, drinking. If only.
The taxi driver let me off at a cheap hotel in False Bay about 9 AM on Thursday morning.
The room lived up to its price tag—no view and a smell of old cigarette smoke and feet, baked in the sun. But the bedding was clean, the carpet not too bad and there was warm water in the taps.
The moment I entered the room, I peeled off all the damp clothing from my body, everything from the socks right up to the T-shirt and underwear that still leeched energy from my skin. I thrust the duffel bag on the bed, unzipped it and dumped everything onto the bedspread. The TV was on, showing some news guy
