B
ugi sat at the edge of the road, rubbing his sore limbs. They hurt him so much, he barely noticed the oncoming truck. He jumped up just in time. “Look what happens when you go poking your nose into places where you’re not wanted,” Lulu chided him. “You get thrown out like a stray dog. This is for you, by the way.”
“How did you get this?” Bugi gazed, enraptured, at the glossy brochure Lulu handed him.
“The receptionist from the hotel — the one you were talking to before — tossed it to me when he saw them dragging you away. He must have guessed that I know you.”
“He was a good guy, that receptionist,” Bugi said hoarsely, still under the spell of the luxury he’d seen, still feeling the sting of humiliation at being thrown out. “It’s a shame that G-d divided the world up into respectable and unrespectable people, instead of good people and bad people.”
