Tuvalu Read Online Free PDF

to decide what it would hit first—me or the opposite wall. It was nailed down. I checked afterwards. But at the time I didn’t know that. So I was wondering all sorts of crazy stuff. Who’ll find me? What will they find? What facial expression will I have?’ She grinned lopsidedly. Her teeth were crooked but beautifully white. I loved this smile right away, just as much later I would love other imperfections in her: the hundreds of brown, almost black moles that coated her thin, milk-white body, or the way she took up new hobbies like great handfuls of sweets, stuffing them into her schedule and spitting them back out half chewed.
    â€˜I can’t afford chemicals,’ I said, returning to the original topic, which had never quite left my mind.
    â€˜Well, you might as well give up now. I read somewhere that if all the governments of the world pooled their funds they could never hope to eradicate cockroaches. You, with only your magazine, don’t stand a chance.’
    â€˜You seem to know a lot about cockroaches.’
    â€˜Not really.’
    â€˜Do you own spray?’
    â€˜Of course.’
    â€˜Can I use it?’
    â€˜Now?’
    â€˜I want to hit this wardrobe with it.’
    So we went to Tilly’s room, collected her spray, returned and draped a misty chemical plume over my wardrobe. Tilly waved her hand in the air, pleading for me to stop, but I kept my finger down. I did great sweeps of the room like a crop-duster. Swooping, banking, then coming in again.
    â€˜C’mon,’ she said. ‘Let’s find something to do until the smell clears.’
    â€˜Like what?’
    She dragged me out of the room and into the corridor, which also smelt strongly of bug spray.
    â€˜I don’t know,’ she said. ‘Let’s get lunch. Find a nice—’
    â€˜I can’t afford nice.’
    â€˜Well, from a convenience store then. Surely you can afford that?’
    â€˜I guess.’

    We walked to the nearest 7-Eleven, outside of which a young, pretty girl in uniform was emptying the recycling bins. She tried with both hands to hoist a plastic bag full of empty bottles from the biggest bin, her elbows out, then dropped it and let out a soft, displeased grunt. We entered without helping her.
    The store was devoid of customers. The elderly man behind the counter was busy stacking cigarettes. He looked oddly satisfied with his job, as if it suited him perfectly, and greeted us with genuine warmth. We ambled to the section selling box lunches and, while debating what to eat, heard an ambulance arrive. The sirens caught our attention. We stood in front of the porn magazine section staring out the window, watching an ambulance pull up in front of a generic brown building across the road. Two abnormally stocky Japanese men climbed out, each with ‘Fire Brigade’ written on their uniform.
    â€˜What are they doing in an ambulance?’ Tilly asked, confused.
    â€˜I have no idea.’
    For a moment she was quiet. ‘I don’t like ambulances,’ she said finally.
    I waited but there was no story. We continued to watch, absorbed by the unfolding scene. The two firemen approached a rotund elderly lady. She wrenched up the sleeve of her tracksuit and pointed into the brown building. Words were exchanged. The two men nodded gravely, then unfolded a stretcher and wheeled it inside. The elderly woman remained by the ambulance.
    â€˜So,’ Tilly asked, while we waited for something more to happen, ‘why are you so poor?’
    â€˜That’s a long story.’
    â€˜We have time,’ she said.
    â€˜True.’
    â€˜Unless it’s private.’
    â€˜Not really. My last company hired me in Australia to work here. They helped me get a visa and apartment and all that, but decided not to renew my contract after a year. That was about three months ago. In other words, I was fired.’
    Finally settling on onigiri rice triangles,