Theft at Track 24
The laptop was gone when I returned to my seat in Roma Termini. We were on our way back to Albano last night from our short stay in the Convent at Vigne. I had nipped off to use the bathroom, leaving my new laptop just inches from Andrew’s left hip—the new laptop just delivered from the United States, as you might recall. I asked him to watch my things while I was gone, but carelessly left it just outside of his field of vision: when he looked over ‘within a minute of my exit’ the computer wasn’t there—he thought I had taken it with me after all.
When I returned a few minutes later, I stopped short as soon as I noticed its disappearance. A quick scan of the bags around the bench told me that Andrew hadn’t moved it. “Where’s my computer?” I asked. A surprised look as he turned to me confirmed my fears. I stood stunned. The concrete where I’d been sitting stared back, black and silent.
The laptop was gone. And the photos too: several thousand irreplaceable photographs—from Morocco, Spain, and France—all lost. A police report was soon filed, but haven’t much hope of its discovery: not in a city of nearly three million inhabitants.
Truly, though: quid hoc ad aeternitatem?
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