3
He slept for eleven hours, and when he woke couldn’t tell if the dusky sky was daybreak or nightfall. He called reception, and they informed him that it was the morning of March 8 and asked if he would like breakfast.
“Sure,” he said and stumbled into the shower on the upper level of his suite.
When he got out, the breakfast was already laid on the table by the window: coffee, eggs, sausages, pastries, fruit. In a belted Hermès robe, he ate slowly, looking out at the wrinkling water where the sails crawled by like triangular motes. Then he opened up his new laptop and checked his email and the news. There were skirmishes in Syria, another explosion in Baghdad, but from this perch the Middle East seemed as placid as his hometown of Elkhart, Indiana. He chuckled as he remembered his mom
