Carter sat up and swung his legs off the bed. Setting his feet on the floor, he stretched his arms out wide and rolled his head about to loosen his neck and shoulder muscles. He looked about the room. It was eerily quiet despite the background noise of the traffic outside. It made Carter acutely aware that he was there all alone. How odd this air of solitude felt. That he should perceive it so keenly puzzled and unsettled him. Had he not just lived virtually the entire summer by himself? Why should he now feel so lonely after just one night away from home?

He realized of course that the difference was that he was in completely new and unfamiliar surroundings. Nothing was the same, not the feel of his pillow and blankets, not the way the light switch on the wall or the shower in the bathroom worked. Even the air itself felt different. That, he told himself, was what it meant to go to a foreign land. And that was why he felt such a strange sense of isolation.

The best antidote for it, Carter decided, was to dress and get out of the room as quickly as possible. Just the same, he sat there for a little while longer, mulling over his plans for the day. His thoughts turned to Elena, as they often did when he was alone, and he wondered if perhaps he should just pack his things, go to the station, and take the first train for Abruzzo. The idea briefly fired his enthusiasm, but was very soon dismissed. Carter decided that he must stick with his original plan and spend a few days getting to know the country a little before pushing on with his quest to find Elena. He did want to impress her, after all. Showing up in Roccasale in his present discombobulated state was sure to produce something less than the desired effect.With that much resolved, he gave another yawn, got to his feet, and started his day.

The hotel did not have a restaurant, but only a small room off the front lobby where continental breakfast was served each morning from seven to ten. This being Sunday, the breakfast hours had been extended to eleven. By the time Carter came downstairs, however, the tables had all been cleared and the coffee taken away. This troubled Carter only a little, for he had already vowed that morning not to partake of coffee again for at least a week. He was, however, feeling quite hungry. It would be lunchtime soon, and so, with his daypack slung over his shoulder, he dropped his room key at the front desk and headed out the door in search of something to eat.