He had never asked her for beer again anyway. He told Ross the story, probably not for the first time, as they dawdled on, now more comfortable, shaded from the Thai sun, which was fierce and dazzling even at that hour of the morning in the winter. Winter in Thailand was not really definable in terms of temperature, but rather in time itself – a day contained an hour less sunlight in the winter than in the summer.
They came to a fork in the road – they had reached the village ring road, the point where the main road through the village ran out of it towards the next one, flanked on both sides by mile upon mile for green rice fields.
“Heads or tails,” he offered again,
“Well, right there is absolutely nothing until we get to the furthest most eastern point of the village, and left is th
