It didn’t do any good to me to go down on memory lane. A cup of coffee was a remedy for that, and a couple of minutes later I stepped outside on the deck with the mug in my hand. It burned my hand when I tried to place it on the wooden edge for a second. My hair clip was loosening, but by the time I had my hands free, the clasp fell down on the alley under the small terrace.
Coffee in hand, it didn’t matter that I was in my pajamas. I stepped down the stairs and got out on the street. Nobody was there. Two blocks away I could see the ocean and silhouettes with surfboards.
There was no gate to the private alley where I was ready to search for my pin. The entrance was blocked with the trash bins. I moved one of them on a side and I squeezed between the other two. A little window I haven’t seen before, maybe of a bathroom of the next door house, didn’t have any covering. Instead of locating my clasp, I pressed my face on the glass to see inside. It was a regular half-bathroom with outdated furniture. Sink, toilet and a cupboard under the sink. Nothing else. There were no towels, soap, decorations or personal things.
What did I expect? The house was empty.
Somehow, I caught a smell, a smell of some sort of medicine, coming through one of the window’s edges.