For a brief moment I feel a sense of familiarity. Her almond eyes, gaze at me intensely. And then, just as quickly as the sensation comes, it leaves. She brushes past the vendors, not looking back, her silk robes bellowing softly behind her as she steps lightly across the crowded road. Straightening up, I shake my head. It was not her, and yet it was.

Walking home, I could not shake the glazed look. One of fear, anger, spite….and even hope? I could not be sure. Her slight figure, tilt of head, white skin…all a familiarity. Save for her eyes. They no longer possessed the warmth and mirth from when we parted ways.

“Mister Lopez,” I call, stepping through the doorway as I make my way to his room.

“Yes, Master Green,” he whispers hoarsely, swollen eyes opened to slits. I take a step back. “You look worse, shall I hail a doctor?”

Coughs wrack his body as he abruptly hangs himself over his bed frame. “In this condition,” he begins but is cut off by another bought of coughing. “Think it may be better to let me die,” he moans, before collapsing exhaustively back into his mattress.

“I’ll send for James,” I nod. “He’s lived here a while and knows a thing or two about being sick….also, I’ll be out for a few days. Have a friend to call upon,” I add before leaving his room.

I head out of the house, careful to drop by my room and pack a few things before leaving.James, a well-seasoned sailor, and a half-drunkard lives nearly two miles out of the village. Located on the outskirts by the farmers, the seasoned veteran retired in China shortly after his last voyage trip, on the RHS went poorly. According to the captain, he was not fit to sail with, sailor or not, and thus had been banished to land for the remainder of his life.

I knock on his door. A thin Chinese woman in her late 50’s opens the door. Head bowed, she dips into a curtsy, before gesturing for me to enter. Motioning me forward, she guides me to an old man sitting in a worn-out rocker. He sips coffee, peering over the chipped china as he watches me approach him.

“Aye, Master Green,” he wheezes, a cough settling deep within his throat. “Tis’ a terrible season to visit….what owe I to seeing your face again, young boy?”

I take my hat off my head and bow deeply. “I’m here on behalf of Mister Lopez, a young Spaniard traveler of mine. I trust you remember him from when I last introduced you two.” James waves his hand vaguely in the air, and I proceed. “Anyways, a small misfortune has befallen him and I fear that he is gravely ill.”

“Is that so,” James murmured, bored of our conversation he leans forward to straighten his breaches.

“I was hoping that you could help the lad,” I continue, watching his disinterest increase. “And in return,” I add. “I’ll offer you passage back to England.”

His head snaps up with interest. “Home,” he echos, eyes misting up a small smile spreads slowly across his weather beaten face.

“Home,” I echo back softly. Crouching down next to him I slip a piece of paper into his hand. “His address. He will lead you to my ship, upon which in a fortnight we will set sail at dawn.”

Two days! I’ve spent two days in this spiteful country and already more bugs than I could name have bitten me. Once again I’m reminded why I left this nation in the first place. Mister Lopez, his trunk opened up at the base of my…. well, would be mattress… in actuality it is a thatched reed roll up, which is piled underneath thick woollen blankets, and plush pillows, most likely imported by India, France, and embroidered by Chinese tailors.

Mister Lopez enters the room, his hair a tumbled mess; black hair cascades down his face, framing his narrow face, which is a sickly white. His eyes, once light and full of life, are now sunken into his face, making his already prominent cheekbones stand out even more.

“Still feeling sick?” I ask, nodding towards the door he’d just exited out of.

Grimacing in slight pain he shakes his head, collapsing on his thatched mattress, sinking into the plush pillows he turns onto his side and closes his eyes.

“Master Green,” he breathes heavily. “This must be what you feel like all the time?”

“Yeah,” I murmur in agreement. He shakes his head. “But,” I continue, grinning with stupidity. “I must say it’s rather odd to see it rather than feel it.”

Lopez chuckles only to start coughing uncontrollably. I watch, unable to move to help him, as his body is wracked with throaty spasms. “Want me to call the maid?”

“No,” he shakes his head. “It’s almost passed…I just need rest.”

“Alright,” I respond. “I’m going to head out into the market place…we’ve run out of spinach, and it seems we could do with more tea.” I nod my head towards the basket half-filled with spinach leaves…all dried to a crisp, and a box of tea—still crammed with tea leaves.

Lopez nods, eyes closed with pain, though a small smile creeps out onto his face.

***

At the market, I’m hustled about like a sack of potatoes. The closest town, five miles from the cottage, supports a small fishing community, a couple of outlandish farmers, and of course, one royal consort. Whish is probably the only reason it was called a town, as the residents where only a handful enough to be called a village.

Cabbages, tomatoes, and of course, spinach leaves—the only edible thing at the market not covered in flies and insects, is crowded by numerous people. Their dark brown clothes, splotched with mud, dirt and sweat, blends into one mass. I press forward, elbowing my way to the front of the vendor. People make way for me, their eyes drawn to my robes, before trailing towards my face. Immediately they make way fro me, their eyes shifting uncomfortably towards the ground as I manage to buy a basket filled with spinach for half the normal price. Turning around, I begin to make my way back to the main street. Peasants in a large huddle begin to part, only for me to come face to face with almond eyes.

I focus on the people. Straw hats, fishing poles, and nets turn into fine linens and silks, blurring together; becoming one solid mass, unrecognizable to the mind. Mister Lopez engages in a conversation with the other members of our coach: a small Asian lady with hazel eyes, shaped like almonds and highlighted with a soft silver hue, and an elder Chinese gentleman, his silk clothes falling in thick waves down his shoulders, before spilling to the floor of the carriage. Turning to look at me, he looked me up and down, eyes narrow slits.

“这个人。。。我觉得， 他怪怪得。” he murmured in a thick southern accent; a harsh “s” sound escaping his lips, as if he talked with a lisp on purpose.

Turning to face Lopez, I murmur deep in his ear, “¿Cuánto durará este viaje por carretera exactamente?”

“阿， 我的主人对你的国家很满意！” he resounds, earning a delightful chuckle from the man, whose belly shakes as he struggles to contain the laughter from spilling out.

“Now look what you’ve done,” I scowl deeply as I gesture my head towards the mass of bobbing flesh. “He’s not going to stop until we arrive at our resting spot, why did you have to go and do that?”

“’ave a little fun,” Lopez smirks. “Look,” he nudges my ribs, tilting his head slightly to the lady in the cart. “She seems to ‘ave relaxed a little…think you can do the same.”

I roll my eyes at his flirtation. “Mister Lopez,” I whisper dangerously. “All women are foxes…steer clear of those that aren’t native to your land, for they are the most unpredictable.”

Lopez grins, winking at the young lady as if I had just shared with him some profound joke. I glare at him coldly, closing my eyes, I shut out the world and fall into a restless sleep.

***

I don’t remember the rest of the trip. The jostling of the coach while sleeping, caused my head to bump uncomfortably against the hard frame of the carriage. Rubbing my eyes as we pull to an abrupt halt, I push myself upright. Blurry eyed I come face to face with the Chinese man, his head cocked ever so slightly, only five inches from my own.

“哎呀， 你的朋友没有耐力！为什么他就是睡觉。你看！这个地方好美。。。天气还不错。。。还有， 他很年轻， 对不对？ 那为什么他只睡觉？” he complains, inching closer to my face.

I reel back in disgust. “Ahhh, 我觉得。。。” Lopez begins. “我觉得。。。是应为。。。他对中国人很怕。。。”

“很怕？”the man resounds in surprise. “为什么？”

“因为， 你们很厉害哦！”

“真的吗？”

“真的！。。。还有， 你们的菜比其他的菜好多！”

“对啊！我告诉你们， 欧洲的菜不是健康。你们的皮肤太苍白了！”

“对！…”

The coachman opens the door and I stumble out, eager to rid myself of their conversation. Grabbing my worn out trunk, I head towards the inn. A rather well kept cottage with thick grey cobblestones covered in green vines. Slipping through the door I hand my items to the Chinese mistress who greets me. She takes it, curtsying slightly before showing me to my room…