Every time I come back from the Language Institute, I have a shower and I bring my coffee down to the stony tables in the hotel yard. And every time I see them, going home after 14 hours of hard labour. They are both very young, but they do the hardest work here. She is cleaning the toilets, and he is fixing and carrying things up and down the stairs. He is just a skinny teenager, but he is much stronger than me. I have seen him carrying things heavier than himself.
They start their work at 6 AM and they finish it at 8 PM. Feeling exhausted from just sitting and reading and writing, I smoke and I watch them going across the hotel yard, holding their hands and jumping of joy. They are kissing and smiling and joking, and it is so obvious that they are so madly in love with each other.
They are probably very poor, and they work very hard, but at these moments I am so jealous of them. I just wish I were him. Or her. Because they both have much more than I have ever had. Much more than most of us will ever have.