It was such a long train from Zagreb, so we were desperate and miserable when we put our packs on and walked out into the rain, and so when Zig approached us with his wiry beard and severe eyes and perfect English, I agreed to follow him around the corner of the station to a seedy cab, already a mistake, and then to the hostel he worked for, which was legit, but that was also an old Soviet-style university on summer break, where we'd just sleep in the dorm rooms, and there was a bar in the basement where Zig arrived and complimented Steph's appearance profusely, buying me drinks and watching me drink them, then insisting that we dance to Guns and Roses; we were the only couple on the dance floor, trying to plan an
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