Alison closed the door of a small flat. It was another exhausting day at the travel agency where she worked, and she was looking forward to being alone. There was an interesting programme she wanted to watch on TV later in the evening. She had just started preparing her dinner when there was a knock on her door.

‘Who might that be?’ she said to herself, opening it. Behind, stood a good-looking man of her age, holding a small bag. ‘Hello. I just moved in a small apartment next to yours, so I’m your neighbour. My name is Edison, nice to meet you! Here is a little gift,’ he bowed, extending a hand with a bag. Alison found something peculiar, but familiar about his pronunciation and behavior, that is why she replied, ‘The pleasure is mine. I am Alison. Are you, perhaps, a foreigner?’ ‘… Yes,’ the male hesitated. ‘Is it so easy to tell?’ ‘Well, I did the same thing two years ago and got strange stares after that,’ she laughed cheerfully, accepting the present. ‘It’s common sense in Japan, but not here.’ ‘You figured it out,’ he gave a wry smile.

Alison turned around to find slippers and, suddenly, heard a loud thump. Edison was lying on a doorstep, seemingly unconscious. “Hey, are you all right?’ she rushed to his side and then his stomach growled. ‘Hungry…’ murmur came. The woman chuckled, ‘Oh, come on… Just hang on!’ She watched him standing up and invited the man to the kitchen. Luckily, the dinner was not burnt to ashes and Alison could enjoy a storm of compliments like ‘delicious,’ ‘you’re a great cook!’ and so on.

The evening continued with a bottle of wine which was in a bag Edison brought. They spent all night talking to each other, getting closer and closer.

Nothing happened, really! At least, that is what they told everyone at their wedding a month after that.

(45 minutes)

One morning I rolled out of bed and wandered over to the dressing-table to brush my hair. Suddenly I saw an sealed envelope addressed to me. Who could have delivered it and what was inside?

Bewildered, I held it in my hand, asking myself those questions. The mailer was more important, however. Only one person could send me a letter, others would simply contact me using e-mail. I looked at one of the corners… that was right, from my mother! She was an explorer and usually spent half the year somewhere mobiles don’t work so she mailed me quite often. Nothing interesting was inside, just the usual ‘How are you?’ and ‘I’m doing fine’ letter. There was an ironic question in the end, though. ‘How’s your new job? You enjoy it, don’t you?’

I could feel suppressed laughter behind those words. That devilish woman (a little harsh, but anyway) had tricked me into accepting the work of a dormitory keeper in my hometown. Seemed like the owner was not against the idea, so I had arrived there, only to discover it was a dorm for girls! Well, they were alright with things turning out like this, and I had started carrying out duties.

Each morning I prepared breakfast for everyone, today was no exception. After that, I was free till noon. Today was my first time strolling around the town I lived in the past, so I decided to start with the Windmill Hill. Something always attracted me to that place, a sense of freedom given by strong gusts of wind, perhaps. Gazing at the crystal-clear surface of the lake reflecting the azure sky above, I murmured, ‘Welcome home, myself.’

(30 minutes)