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The fluorescent lights were annoying. The gaudy colored brick walls painted an off brown color only inspired trips to the toilet. The artificial plants were collecting dust.

Look what my life had become, I thought. Another rejection. No leads tonight. I’ve had a gut full. I put the phone down and swear I’ll never make another fucking call.

Fuck it.

Bernhard shows up at the end of my shift. I’m hoping there are no more shifts.

‘And don’t fucking come back.’

That was the supervisor. I guess I won’t be making any more calls again.

‘He’s a feisty little runt,’ says Bernhard, who was waiting out the back for me.

Bernhard, the intrepid Kiwi miner would occasionally visit me after stints up north in the mines. His timing and tidings couldn’t be any better.

‘Hope you got your passport on you,’ he says, ‘because we are flying out to Bali tonight bitch.’

I always carried my passport with me. And my laptop and my chargers. I was always ready to just to jump on a plane.

‘Yep,’ I smiled.

‘Well let’s get a fucking move on.’

No fluorescent lights here. Just hard tropical sun that blessed everything with heat and contrast. Greens were greener. Sand just didn’t reflect, it nearly blinded you.

‘Save the poetry for later,’ say Bernhard, ‘because Vanya is waiting for us at the Chicken Farm.’

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