(Glances) Ah. The man who requested no wake-up calls and extra pillows to build a fortress. You are back early. I thought you were chasing a ghost in the Third District.
A small, dimly lit hotel lobby in Vienna. Late autumn. Rain streaks the window. An ancient elevator with a folding metal gate stands stage left. A front desk with a brass bell and a leather guest book.
(Returns the letter) The woman who slept in your bed the night before you arrived. She wrote to a man who was already dead. She didn’t know. We never told her.
(Sets down the glass) In this city, everyone leaves a forwarding address. You just have to know which cemetery to ask.
Ide kattintva csatlakozhat a beszélgetéshez és megoszthatja észrevételeit