Nawin was gazing out to a sidewalk that was across the bifurcated street that veered into many directions around the Arc de Triomphe replica, and he was ready to move toward it. He was just about ready to stand up and walk away. As the Laotian would not be returning there was no need to sit here further. Furthermore, he was hungry and wanted the steam of coffee to make him into a new man. Then he suddenly felt a tap on his shoulder, human warmth, the sense of belonging to this sorry specie. The Laotian handed him a receipt. "It should be delivered by tomorrow afternoon."
"All of it?"
"I think so."
"To your home?"
"Yes unless you want me to have him deliver it to a hotel room.
You don't have one?"
"No. I was thinking about checking into the Paris Laos Hotel. I saw it earlier in passing. Any change?"
"No."
"It came to 5000 even?"
"Its on the receipt."
"That doesn't mean much."