{"id":1302,"date":"2022-02-23T06:05:00","date_gmt":"2022-02-23T06:05:00","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/urbanvolcano.net\/en\/?p=1302"},"modified":"2025-03-21T18:05:28","modified_gmt":"2025-03-21T18:05:28","slug":"game","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/urbanvolcano.net\/en\/game\/","title":{"rendered":"Game"},"content":{"rendered":"\n<aside class=\"other-formats\">Other formats: <a title=\"Game (PDF)\" href=\"https:\/\/urbanvolcano.net\/ebooks\/en\/pdf\/game.pdf\">PDF<\/a> | <a title=\"Leikur (\u00edslenska)\" href=\"https:\/\/urbanvolcano.net\/is\/leikur\/\">\u00edslenska<\/a><\/aside>\n\n\n<div class=\"wp-block-image is-resized\">\n<figure class=\"alignright size-medium\"><a href=\"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/urbanvolcano.net\/en\/wp-content\/uploads\/2022\/02\/game.png?ssl=1\"><img data-recalc-dims=\"1\" loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" width=\"300\" height=\"300\" src=\"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/urbanvolcano.net\/en\/wp-content\/uploads\/2022\/02\/game.png?resize=300%2C300&#038;ssl=1\" alt=\"Game \u2014 Illustration by B\u00f6rkur Sigurbj\u00f6rnsson\" class=\"wp-image-1303\" srcset=\"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/urbanvolcano.net\/en\/wp-content\/uploads\/2022\/02\/game.png?resize=300%2C300&amp;ssl=1 300w, https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/urbanvolcano.net\/en\/wp-content\/uploads\/2022\/02\/game.png?resize=150%2C150&amp;ssl=1 150w, https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/urbanvolcano.net\/en\/wp-content\/uploads\/2022\/02\/game.png?resize=768%2C768&amp;ssl=1 768w, https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/urbanvolcano.net\/en\/wp-content\/uploads\/2022\/02\/game.png?resize=900%2C900&amp;ssl=1 900w, https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/urbanvolcano.net\/en\/wp-content\/uploads\/2022\/02\/game.png?resize=500%2C500&amp;ssl=1 500w, https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/urbanvolcano.net\/en\/wp-content\/uploads\/2022\/02\/game.png?w=1025&amp;ssl=1 1025w\" sizes=\"auto, (max-width: 300px) 100vw, 300px\" \/><\/a><figcaption class=\"wp-element-caption\">Illustration by B\u00f6rkur Sigurbj\u00f6rnsson<\/figcaption><\/figure><\/div>\n\n\n<p>I sat down at a table with a good view of the big television where they would broadcast the game. I had plenty of choices for seating since the restaurant was empty. I looked at my watch. It was eight o&#8217;clock. I would have to wait forty-five minutes until the game would kick off.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>I reached for the menu and flipped through the pages. I had already made up my mind about what I wanted to have\u2014the same plate I always had. I was just killing time by looking at the establishment\u2019s complete offerings. If only I had taken a printout of the paper I was working on at the moment, then I could have used the time to read through a section or two. It would have been ideal since the deadline for submission was approaching rapidly.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cA shawarma plate and a beer, please,\u201d I said to the waiter who came over to the table to take my order as soon as I put down the menu.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-text-align-center\">* * *<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>A breeze of cold air passed through the restaurant when the front door opened into the unusually cold February evening. I looked up and watched a woman enter. She was wearing a long black coat and blue jeans that reached down to the floor with the hems torn at the heels of brown hiking boots. On her head she wore a purple cap; a brown scarf was wrapped around her neck, and her purple mittens matched the color of the cap. She was obviously coming from the Laundromat as she was carrying two giant plastic bags that appeared stuffed with clothes.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>She laid down the bags, took off her mittens, and put them into her coat pockets. She glanced over the dining hall, unbuttoning her coat and loosening the scarf, revealing a thick brown sweater. She took off her cap and untucked her long black hair from under the coat collar. She met my gaze, smiled, and walked over to my table.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cIs this seat free?\u201d she asked in English with a North American accent, pointing to the chair opposite to mine.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cYes,\u201d I replied, wondering why she would choose to sit at my table when there were plenty of other seats available.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cGood,\u201d she said, smiling. \u201cI don\u2019t want to take an entire table just for myself.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cFair enough,\u201d I replied, even if I was not completely convinced by the argument. \u201cIt makes sense to use the space efficiently, especially when a Champions League game is coming up.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>The waiter came to the table with my beer and the woman asked for a bottle of water.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cSo you\u2019re here for the game?\u201d she asked when the waiter had taken her order.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cYes,\u201d I replied, unconsciously glancing at my wristwatch.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cIt\u2019s still a bit early, isn\u2019t it?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cYes,\u201d I admitted, putting up an awkward smile. \u201cI always make the same mistake, worry about not finding a good seat, rush to the restaurant, and end up way too early.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cA dedicated soccer fan?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cNo, not really. I don\u2019t watch that much. The big games. Against Madrid. The Champions League. You? A big Bar\u00e7a fan?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cCan\u2019t say I am. I\u2019m here mostly for the mood. I like the heated atmosphere of crowded scenes where a large group of people watches an exciting soccer match. These days I&#8217;m attracted to warm places.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>The waiter came back to the table, bringing the bottle of water and my shawarma plate.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cCheers!\u201d the woman said after pouring herself a glass of water. \u201cWhat&#8217;s your name?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cCheers!\u201d I replied, lifting my beer glass. \u201cI\u2019m Borgar.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cA what?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cBorgar. B-O-R-G-A-R.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cBurger?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cMore or less. You can also call me Bob.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cNice to meet you&#8230; Bob. I\u2019m Alice. Where are you from?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cIceland.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cAwesome! I love Iceland. In a way. I definitely want to go there one day. A friend of mine went there a couple years ago and she showed me like a million photos when she came back. I was blown away by the landscape. So empty, yet so beautiful. It has a kind of outer space feel to it. So outer space that I heard NASA is staging their Mars stimulation there. Is that true?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cThat\u2019s true,\u201d I said without actually having a clue whether it was really true, but pleased that it set one of my favorite jokes up. \u201cI heard the premise is that if they manage to find intelligent life forms in Iceland, they could be hopeful the same holds for Mars.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cRight!\u201d the woman said, smiling. It seemed that my joke was at least a partial success. \u201cIn any case, intelligent life forms aside, it sounds like it&#8217;s a truly amazing and unique place.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cYeah, it\u2019s a nice place for tourism. Totally different from what you get in Europe.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cBut Iceland belongs to Europe, doesn\u2019t it?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cYes and no. Geographically speaking it\u2019s half in Europe and half in North America, because it\u2019s on the Atlantic Ridge. Genealogically we are predominantly of Norwegian origin with a few Celtic chromosomes thrown into the mix. Historically we belong to Europe through the connection with the Scandinavian dynasties. Culturally we are however a mixture between Europe and North America. There&#8217;s a lot of influence from the US in our lifestyle.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cOh yeah? How so?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cDon\u2019t know. Maybe because when Europe had its golden age, Icelanders were just poor farmers living in turf houses. Our golden age started only with the Marshall Plan aid following the Second World War. We rose from poverty to riches under protection from the States. Iceland was an important strategic location in the Cold War. The US had an airbase there and poured money into the economy. I guess that explains to some extent why there&#8217;s a lot of cultural influence from the US.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cI think that&#8217;s the first time I&#8217;ve heard a European mention the States and culture in the same sentence. But what do you consider yourself? A European or an American?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cNeither, really. I guess I associate with being Icelandic. But mostly I just consider myself, myself.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cFair enough. And what brought you all the way to Barcelona? Escaping from the North American lifestyle? Trying to find your European roots?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cNo, not quite. I came here for a job. I work for a North American multinational company that has its European research arm based here. I\u2019m an economist. Working mostly on game theory.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cGame theory? As in soccer?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cNo, not quite. Game theory as a formalism for studying decision making. It&#8217;s used to model conflicts and cooperation between rational agents\u2014as if they were playing a game. And you? What brought you over the Atlantic? Judging by your accent, I\u2019m assuming you&#8217;re American.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cYes and no. I guess I can label myself as American. I\u2019m originally from Canada but the desire for adventure drove me away from home and brought me all over the world. Compared to your game theory, my life is a completely different ball game. No fancy degree. Working odd jobs. Bars, restaurants, that sort of thing.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cTraveling all over the world doesn&#8217;t sound that bad. Whereabouts?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cAll over, really. I&#8217;ve lived in the States, Argentina, Australia, London, Paris, Prague, Monaco, and now in Barcelona.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cThat&#8217;s quite an impressive list! And now, working in a Barcelona bar or restaurant?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cNo, not at the moment. I&#8217;m between jobs, as they say. I\u2019m unemployed.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cAnd how do you fancy Bar\u00e7a\u2019s chances tonight?\u201d the TV commentator asked their special guest as the waiter cranked up the volume and the pregame broadcast began. \u201cThey haven\u2019t been at the top of their game lately.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>We let the television volume disrupt our conversation and started following the program. Gradually, people had begun to pour into the restaurant to watch the game, and Alice got the warm atmosphere she was seeking.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>During the game and halftime we talked casually about the game and football in general. I ordered a couple more beers but Alice stuck with water.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-text-align-center\">* * *<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>The referee blew the final whistle and the crowd clapped. Bar\u00e7a had won and was in a good position to reach the next round of the competition. The waiter put the check on the table and I took out my card to pay. Alice took some coins from her pocket and started counting.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cAllow me,\u201d I said. \u201cIt was only a couple bottles of water. I\u2019ll take care of it.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>We put our coats on while the waiter went to get the payment machine to process my card.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cYou live close by?\u201d I asked. \u201cWe could walk together if we&#8217;re going in the same direction.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>I had enjoyed Alice&#8217;s company during the game and wanted to prolong it a few moments longer, although I did not have much time to spare due to the upcoming paper deadline. I thought it would be nice to walk together, exchange phone numbers, and then meet again for drinks or something when there was less time pressure.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cNo, I can&#8217;t really say I live close by,\u201d Alice replied, looking out the window. \u201cLast night I slept in that bank lobby across the street. At the moment I\u2019m homeless.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>I looked at Alice. I looked at her bags. Perhaps she had not come directly from the Laundromat after all. I looked out the window, toward the bank across the street.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cCould you enter your pin, please?\u201d the waiter asked, having returned with the payment machine.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>I typed in the code and waited for the receipt before turning my attention back to Alice.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cCan I ask you a favor?\u201d she asked as I put my card into my wallet.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cI suppose,\u201d I said, still shaken after what I had just heard.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cCan I crash on your couch tonight?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Crash on my couch tonight? I hesitated. A few moments ago she had been an interesting woman I would have liked to get to know better. A few moments ago I would not have thought twice about inviting her to my place. Now, there was something holding me back. I felt awkward about inviting a homeless stranger to spend the night at my place.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cJust for one night,\u201d Alice begged. \u201cI just want to get one night away from the cold. I want to sleep in a secure place. Away from the dangers of the street.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>I felt my palms sweating and my cheeks burning as blood rushed to my head. I was very bad at handling spontaneous decisions. I always panicked. But now I needed to calm myself. I needed to think straight. To reason. I needed to put the situation into a context I was familiar with. I had to look at it from a game-theory perspective. I could set it up as a two-person game, where it was my turn to play. In that situation, I could either answer her request with a yes or a no. Then it would be her turn to show her cards. There were two possible outcomes. She could be honest or dishonest. Hence, in total, there were four possible results. If I said yes and she was dishonest, I would lose. If I said no and she was honest, she would lose. If I said yes and she was honest, we would both win. If I said no and she was dishonest, I would win. It was my turn to play. In game-theory terms the choice was clear, at least for a risk-averse person like me. In order to guarantee that I would not lose, my safest strategy would be to say no.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cI suppose you can,\u201d I replied, somewhat to my surprise. My gut feeling had overcome my reason. I was not behaving like the rational agents I wrote about in my academic papers.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cThanks!\u201d Alice exclaimed and hugged me. \u201cI appreciate it very much.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>She picked up her bags and we headed for the exit. I held the door open for her as we left the restaurant.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cI love Barcelona nights,\u201d Alice said as we hit the street. \u201cAnd especially Gr\u00e0cia. It&#8217;s so busy and yet has such a calm atmosphere. It has a natural flow to it somehow. In a sense it\u2019s a bit like Icelandic landscapes, I guess, busy with exotic landforms but still so empty and quiet.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cYes,\u201d I replied, not paying much attention to what she was saying. Had I made a mistake by following my gut feeling rather than my game-theory argumentation? She seemed like a nice girl and if I looked at the situation from a probabilistic perspective, there was no reason to worry. In all likelihood she was an honest person and I had no grounds to feel uneasy.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cIs that what you like about the Gr\u00e0cia neighborhood?\u201d Alice asked as we walked along Carrer de Verdi. \u201cThat it flows naturally like the Icelandic landscape?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cI suppose,\u201d I said, wondering whether it was stupid of me to look at the situation from a probabilistic angle. Could I really claim that she was a nice and honest girl in all likelihood? I should assign some of the probability mass to the scenario where she was dishonest. What would happen then?<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-text-align-center\">* * *<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cThis is it,\u201d I said as I fumbled with opening the door to my apartment.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>We entered and I locked the door behind us with the bolt. I thought about locking it with a key as well\u2014to bar Alice from running away with my belongings. That might look awkward, though. How would I justify my actions if she asked?<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cHere&#8217;s the bedroom, the study, the bathroom,\u201d I said, leading Alice toward the living room. \u201cAnd the kitchen is farther down the hall.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cIt\u2019s a nice place you\u2019ve got,\u201d Alice said as we entered the living room. \u201cYou must be making a small fortune playing this game thing of yours.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cThat&#8217;ll be your bed tonight,\u201d I said, pulling the seat of the sofa forward to turn it into a bed. \u201cLet me get you some sheets.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>I went into the study and grabbed a set of bedsheets from the wardrobe that covered one wall of the room opposite a densely packed bookshelf. I took a deep breath. Alice looked to be a perfectly harmless woman. There was definitely no reason for me to worry about her being in my apartment.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cGood night,\u201d I said after preparing the sofa bed for Alice.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cI hope you get a nice deep sleep,\u201d Alice replied, smiling.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>I replied with an awkward smile and left the living room, heading over to my bedroom.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-text-align-center\">* * *<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>I opened my eyes and looked at the alarm clock. It was one a.m. I could not sleep.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cI hope you get a nice deep sleep,\u201d Alice had said. \u201cYou must be making a small fortune playing this game thing of yours.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>What did she mean by that? A nice deep sleep? Was she hoping I would be so deeply asleep that she would have a good opportunity to rob me while I snored? Was she eyeing my laptop? My camera? My stereo?<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>I took a deep breath. There was nothing to be afraid of. Probability was on my side. In all likelihood Alice was an honest woman. She was here as my guest, just to get a secure night\u2019s sleep. She was not here to cause me harm.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-text-align-center\">* * *<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>I opened my eyes and looked at the alarm clock. It was two a.m. I held my breath, listening to the sounds coming from the living room. There was a deep breathing sound. Like someone in a good sleep.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cI want to sleep in a secure place. Away from the dangers of the street,\u201d she had said when convincing me to take her to my place for the night.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>How could she feel secure while sleeping at a stranger\u2019s place? How did she know I was no danger to her? I could just as well be a lunatic, violent, and a rapist. Was she secure because she had a third party on her side? Someone who she would let in during the night while I was fast asleep? Or in a deep sleep, as she had put it. Was she pretending to be asleep? Was she waiting for me to fall asleep? Waiting until she would have the apartment to herself? Waiting until she could have her way and rob me? I should have locked the door with the key.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-text-align-center\">* * *<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>I opened my eyes and looked at the alarm clock. It was three a.m. I heard noise coming from the hall outside the apartment. I heard the rattling of metal. I cuddled up in the fetal position, hugging my extra pillow. What had I done? What was going to happen? I was such an idiot. Why had I let that woman into my house? What would I do?<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>I heard my neighbor\u2019s door open. He was most likely coming home from a late-night shift. The danger was over for the time being, but my heart kept pounding at an accelerated rate. My mind replayed a series of scenes in my head, over and over again. The moment when Alice walked into the restaurant. How she singled me out as her victim. The scene when we walked together through the streets of Gr\u00e0cia. How she smiled a seemingly innocent smile when saying good night.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-text-align-center\">* * *<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>I opened my eyes and looked at the alarm clock. It was four a.m. I heard someone clear their throat by the foot of the bed. It was Alice. She stood there looking at me with her hands behind her back.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cAwake, are we?\u201d Alice asked, grinning. \u201cHaving problems sleeping because you didn&#8217;t dare lock the front door with a key? Who do you take me for? Some evil bitch who&#8217;s going to do you harm while you sleep?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>I blinked, but I could not utter a word. My head felt heavy, halfway between being asleep and awake.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cAlice!\u201d someone shouted from the hallway. \u201cLet\u2019s go!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>I felt a knot in my stomach. I wanted to jump out of bed but I could not move. It was as if my arms were tied to my body and my legs to each other.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cShh,\u201d Alice whispered, pulling one hand from behind her back and bringing her index finger to her lips. \u201cJust lie back and relax. I\u2019m leaving.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>She pulled the other hand from behind her back and pointed a gun in my face.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cGame over!\u201d she yelled as she pulled the trigger and everything went black before my eyes.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-text-align-center\">* * *<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>I opened my eyes and looked at the alarm clock. It was ten a.m. I would be late for work. I had overslept. I got out of bed and put on a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>I staggered, half-asleep, into the hallway and to the bathroom. As I sat down on the toilet I started recalling last night\u2019s events. The game. Alice. The gun. Was she just a dream? Was she still sleeping? Was she real? Had she left? What was a dream and what was reality? Were my things in their place?<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>I looked around the bathroom. Everything seemed to be as it should be. No, wait. My hair dryer. My hair dryer was gone. Alice had stolen my hair dryer.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>I walked back into the hallway and looked into the living room. The sofa bed had been turned back into a sofa. The bedsheets lay neatly folded with my hair dryer on top. Alice was nowhere to be seen.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>I heard noise coming from the kitchen. The washing machine was going into its final and loudest spin. As I entered, I saw Alice standing by the stove flipping a pancake. She had changed clothes from the night before and was wearing black jeans and a red sweater.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cGood morning,\u201d she said, smiling. \u201cHow long you slept. I thought you were never going to wake up.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cYes, no, good morning,\u201d I murmured, rubbing my right earlobe between my thumb and index finger. \u201cI didn\u2019t sleep all that well. I had some weird nightmares.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cThat\u2019s too bad,\u201d she said, frowning. \u201cI hope you don\u2019t mind me borrowing one of your towels and taking a shower. I also took the liberty of using your washing machine to wash one load of clothes.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cNo, that&#8217;s fine. I don\u2019t mind.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cVery well,\u201d she said, rubbing her hands together. \u201cEnough chitchat. Breakfast is ready. Could you take these into the living room?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>She handed me a large plate of thick American pancakes and two smaller plates with cutlery and napkins.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cLungo or espresso?\u201d she asked as a trained waitress. \u201cMilk or sugar?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cAn espresso, thanks. Black,\u201d I said as I took the pancakes to the living room. In the background, I could hear the humming of my Nespresso machine thrusting hot water through the coffee capsule.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cDo you mind if I use your dryer while we have breakfast?\u201d she asked as I reentered the kitchen, seeing her already taking her clothes from the washing machine and loading them into the dryer.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cNot at all,\u201d I said, yawning, not fully recovered from the disrupted sleep. \u201cIs there anything more I can bring to the table?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cIndeed!\u201d Alice said, handing me a tray with a mug of coffee, my espresso cup, maple syrup, Nutella, two jars of jam and butter.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-text-align-center\">* * *<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>We sat down at the dining table. A breakfast like this had not been prepared in the house for a long time. I had forgotten I even had all this stuff in my cupboards.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cThe pancakes are very tasty,\u201d I said, having taken the first bite. They were truly delicious and I could feel the energy slowly build up in my body.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cI\u2019m glad you like them.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cIt\u2019s nice to have a proper breakfast once in a while. I usually just have two or three cups of coffee until lunch.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>We sat in silence for a while enjoying the pancakes and coffee.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cHow did you end up on the streets?\u201d I asked after having cleared some of the fog in my mind with a sip of my espresso.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cMy home went away with my last job,\u201d Alice answered, pausing for a moment before continuing. \u201cI was an assistant chef at a burger joint in Sants. I was living with the main chef. The relationship went up in flames. But it wasn\u2019t all my fault. I didn\u2019t know the deep fryer would catch fire when I threw that bottle.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cWhat bottle?\u201d I asked, not sure if the story was confusing or if I was just tired.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cThe bottle of whiskey I was unloading from a delivery box. I&#8217;d just found out that Tony, the Swedish chef, the chief burger flipper, the owner, the guy I was living with, had slept with big-boobs Barbie, the waitress who was apparently just as busy serving her massive melons as she was serving juicy burgers. That pretty much sums up how I ended up on the street. I threw the bottle. Tony\u2019s burger joint burned down. He threw me out.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cWhen was this?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cA month ago or so.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cHow long had you been working at Tony\u2019s?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cHalf a year.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cAnd before that?\u201d I asked. \u201cIf you don\u2019t mind me asking.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cNo, it\u2019s fine,\u201d she said and gave me a smile. \u201cI owe you for the favor&#8230; Before that? I was working at a raw-food vegan tapas bar. The food was\u2014believe it or not\u2014really good, but it was hard to sell the tapas bar concept without the ham and cheese platters. The place went out of business&#8230; without flames&#8230; in many ways.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cBefore that I was fired from a hotel receptionist position. For giving one of the guests an off-the-menu room service, if you know what I mean. All legal, but maybe not very professional.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cWow, it seems like you\u2019re haunted by some sort of bad luck.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cI\u2019m not sure if my systemic misfortune can be written off as bad luck. I\u2019d rather say I have a talent for messing up everything I do.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-text-align-center\">* * *<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>After breakfast we took the plates to the kitchen and I washed them while Alice folded her laundry, which could hardly have been fully dried after such a short while in the dryer.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cWell, I shall be off then,\u201d she said as she took the final piece of clothing out of the dryer, folded it, and put it in her bag. \u201cI don\u2019t want to keep you all day. You must need to get to work.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cWould you like to stay another night?\u201d I asked her, putting aside the fork I had been drying. \u201cOr at least stay for a while to finish your laundry, let it dry properly?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cThat\u2019s a very sweet offer, thank you,\u201d she said, walking over to me, putting a hand on my upper arm, and looking me in the eyes. \u201cBut I&#8217;ve made a principle of not staying at the same place for more than one night. I don&#8217;t want to build habits. Not in my current situation. But thanks for the offer. I appreciate it. Maybe later. Under other circumstances. When I&#8217;ve managed to get myself off the street.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cThanks for everything,\u201d she said as she leaned forward and kissed me on both cheeks. \u201cGoodbye.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>I walked her to the door. A tear formed in the corner of my eye as I watched her leave my apartment, walking into the hallway with a giant plastic bag in each hand. I swept the tear away just when she turned around to give me a smile before descending the stairs.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<aside class=\"wp-block-group book-ad has-text-color has-background\" style=\"color:#000000;background-color:#65aab1\"><div class=\"wp-block-group__inner-container is-layout-flow wp-block-group-is-layout-flow\">\n<div class=\"wp-block-media-text is-stacked-on-mobile\" style=\"grid-template-columns:33% auto\"><figure class=\"wp-block-media-text__media\"><img data-recalc-dims=\"1\" loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" width=\"600\" height=\"790\" src=\"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/urbanvolcano.net\/en\/wp-content\/uploads\/2022\/02\/Talk_to_Strangers.png?resize=600%2C790&#038;ssl=1\" alt=\"Talk to Strangers \u2014 Cover by Ana Pi\u00f1eyro\" class=\"wp-image-1281 size-full\" srcset=\"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/urbanvolcano.net\/en\/wp-content\/uploads\/2022\/02\/Talk_to_Strangers.png?w=600&amp;ssl=1 600w, https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/urbanvolcano.net\/en\/wp-content\/uploads\/2022\/02\/Talk_to_Strangers.png?resize=228%2C300&amp;ssl=1 228w, https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/urbanvolcano.net\/en\/wp-content\/uploads\/2022\/02\/Talk_to_Strangers.png?resize=500%2C658&amp;ssl=1 500w\" sizes=\"auto, (max-width: 600px) 100vw, 600px\" \/><\/figure><div class=\"wp-block-media-text__content\">\n<h4 class=\"wp-block-heading\">Talk to Strangers<\/h4>\n\n\n\n<p>This short story appeared in the short story collection Talk to Strangers.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>If you enjoyed the story, we encourage you to support the publication by buying a copy of the book. <\/p>\n\n\n\n<p><em>Talk to Strangers<\/em> is available as paperbacks from <a href=\"https:\/\/www.amazon.com\/Talk-Strangers-B\u00f6rkur-Sigurbj\u00f6rnsson\/dp\/9935946630\/\">Amazon<\/a> and <a href=\"https:\/\/www.barnesandnoble.com\/w\/talk-to-strangers-b-rkur-sigurbj-rnsson\/1133872149\">Barnes and Noble<\/a> and e-books from <a href=\"https:\/\/www.amazon.com\/Talk-Strangers-B\u00f6rkur-Sigurbj\u00f6rnsson-ebook\/dp\/B07YLMPF2Y\/\">Kindle Store<\/a>, <a href=\"https:\/\/books.apple.com\/us\/book\/talk-to-strangers\/id1482435430\">Apple Books<\/a>, <a href=\"https:\/\/www.kobo.com\/gb\/en\/ebook\/talk-to-strangers-2\">Kobo<\/a>, and <a href=\"https:\/\/www.storytel.com\/in\/books\/talk-to-strangers-2028507\">Storytel<\/a>.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>You can also support the author through <a href=\"https:\/\/patreon.com\/UrbanVolcano\">Patreon<\/a> and <a href=\"https:\/\/buymeacoffee.com\/borkur\">Buy Me a Coffee<\/a> or by rating the book on<a href=\"https:\/\/www.goodreads.com\/book\/show\/48424143-talk-to-strangers\"> Goodreads<\/a>.<\/p>\n<\/div><\/div>\n\n\n\n<div class=\"wp-block-buttons is-horizontal is-content-justification-center is-layout-flex wp-container-core-buttons-is-layout-499968f5 wp-block-buttons-is-layout-flex\">\n<div class=\"wp-block-button has-custom-width wp-block-button__width-50\"><a class=\"wp-block-button__link has-text-color has-background wp-element-button\" href=\"https:\/\/urbanvolcano.net\/en\/talk-to-strangers\/\" style=\"border-radius:50px;color:#ffffff;background-color:#000000\">book details<\/a><\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div><\/aside>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>A short story by B\u00f6rkur Sigurbj\u00f6rnsson. A game theorist meets an interesting woman in a restaurant where people gather together to watch a soccer match.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":1303,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"advanced_seo_description":"","jetpack_seo_html_title":"","jetpack_seo_noindex":false,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":"","jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":true,"jetpack_social_options":{"image_generator_settings":{"template":"highway","default_image_id":0,"font":"","enabled":false},"version":2}},"categories":[2],"tags":[76,8,36,38],"class_list":["post-1302","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-shortstories","tag-anxiety","tag-bars-cafes","tag-dreams","tag-games","col-md-6 col-sm-6"],"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/urbanvolcano.net\/en\/wp-content\/uploads\/2022\/02\/game.png?fit=1025%2C1025&ssl=1","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/urbanvolcano.net\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1302","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/urbanvolcano.net\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/urbanvolcano.net\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/urbanvolcano.net\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/urbanvolcano.net\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=1302"}],"version-history":[{"count":5,"href":"https:\/\/urbanvolcano.net\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1302\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":2228,"href":"https:\/\/urbanvolcano.net\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1302\/revisions\/2228"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/urbanvolcano.net\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/1303"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/urbanvolcano.net\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=1302"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/urbanvolcano.net\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=1302"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/urbanvolcano.net\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=1302"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}