He picks out a photograph from the travel wallet. A small child in the smiling embrace of a beautiful woman. Nothing remarkable. Small; taken in one of those shopping centre photo booths. A strip of six silly expressions. Mother and child pulling faces, having fun and it hits him. The lines blur as he's taken into their universe, their timeframe. Rick smiles although he's not sure why. The wash and connection embraces him like a warm breeze, a wave of love and devotion. He's smiling but he doesn't know it.
He'd been surprised when Lydia Schonken had crept into his hostel bunk and kissed him on the lips. Not that Lydia wasn't lovely, but too forward for him. He'd shunned her and told her to 'go back to bed', the leggy German and her short pyjamas, teasing him with a glimpse of buttock before retreating.
She was true to her word and for four fantastic nights they kept company. Hands caressing each other's body in the cricket serenaded night. Brown skins on blonde beaches. Reckless and careless. Oh so careless.
"I know you were Fariq's friend while he was in Colombia. You helped him find himself. He spoke of your sweetness. He told us of your predicament. I'm so sorry. He was killed in action last month. If there is anything we can do....."