One Apple A Day #69
The guinea pig - Prologue /2
Paul steps out of the car and under the rain. The lady in black holds a big umbrella. Her name is Jean; she likes coffee; she always uses the same dress; she never raises the voice, but she doesn’t talk much. At least she told him her name. He doesn’t know the name of the other guy. The one with the big shoulders, the short hair and only one expression in the face. The only words he heard from him are monosyllabic orders.
It doesn’t matter, not anymore. From the few things Jean told him, this is his final destination. He won’t see them again.
The umbrella is very wide, and it protects him from the rain. But it can do nothing to save his shoes from the streams of water running on the pathway. His red converses are not the best choice for this weather. But they are the only shoes he has and the only ones he uses.
When Paul turns toward the house, he sees them for the first time. They are waiting on the entrance, covered from the rain. They are probably in their 60s, but Paul is not very good at guessing the age of people. He is not good in anything related to people. At least, not we the few people he met so far.
The woman is keeping her arms crossed, like if she’s holding the warm inside. Maria, the Mexican nurse, used to do it anytime the air conditioning was on. The man has an arm on her shoulder.
She is smiling. He looks worried.