The neighbour kicks off his sandals and swipes his bare feet on the mat, three times each, one foot and then the other. Eddie is impressed; he is losing the battle with sand. Despite his best efforts it gets in everywhere – the spines of his books, the bottom of the cutlery drawer. He wakes most nights from gritty dreams and has to stand in the dark shaking out the sheets. The neighbour follows him into the living room where they both hesitate in front of the small sofa. Eddie gestures for him to sit down and then picks a cushion from the sofa and sits on the tile floor with his back against the wall. The neighbour clasps and unclasps his hands, clears his throat and then begins to talk in Creole.
