There was the rotting stone around the Odeon, the smell of dank river water on the quays, and then, magically, sudden bursts of sunshine washing along the great boulevards. They stayed in the same hotel, separate rooms. For the first three days, Monday to Wednesday, Lena was occupied until late in the evening. Her job was to help at a worldwide holiday congress for professionals, where WingClub had a stand. Thursday and Friday she was free from lunchtime on. They walked everywhere together on those afternoons, sought out small restaurants away from the tourist streets. Dan marvelled at what was happening to him. After over three years of solitude here he was, laughing happily as they strolled along beneath the trees, the air spiced and heavy. At dinner, the restaurant around them hummed with conversation. On the weekend Lena was busy again but Dan collected her when she’d finished and together they walked back to the hotel through crowded night streets, talking endlessly about what they saw.
