I was reminded of the night you left the room because you were thirsty and wanted a juice or something, you said. I was afraid you would be gone a long time, or longer. I stopped worrying when I saw that you had left your belongings in the room. ID, tobacco and rolling paper, a handful of coins, all haphazardly strewn on the dressing table next to my things. It was comforting, and frightening to note that I had panicked for a moment.

You didn't take long to come back. You had with you a plastic shot glass filled with a deep ruby liquid.

"Drink it. It's good for you." I was nursing a bad cough.

"Do you know what it is?"

I nodded. I wrinkled my nose. "It's bitter."

"Aw. Finish it anyway. Pomegranate is good for you," you repeated. "I carried it a long way in the rain for you. It was difficult."

I finished it.

"Good girl." You looked pleased. You always looked pleased when I finished eating or drinking something you made because you thought it would be good for me.

"Thank you." Thank you.