MATALA
“Excuse me.”
The shopkeeper’s eyes
were furtive. They moved over her, then away, then moved back
again.
It was nothing new.
It was difficult for most men to look directly at a beautiful
woman. Men were weak. Most were idiots.
Dodgson hadn’t found
it difficult. It was one thing she’d liked about him.
“What time’s the bus
to Heraklion?”
The man’s eyes
darted. I could put them out for you.
“You are leaving
us?”
“Yes, I’m leaving
you.”
“That’s a shame. You
go somewhere else?”
“Yes.”
He waited for more.
Of course I’m going somewhere else, you
asshole. But she might as well tell him.
“I’m going to
Mykonos.”
The man smiled. There
was something furtive in the smile, too, as though she’d told him
she were fucking half the island.
“Mykonos!” he
said.
“The bus. Just tell
me about the goddamn bus, will you?”
Or I will pull off your cock and stuff it into your
goddamn ugly mouth.
I’m coming, Dodgson. The man told her.