I’m awoken by the sound of men’s voices. Max opens my door and crouches next to my bed. I can see police officers in the hallway. My head is swimming and my lungs are full of needles.
“I’m sick,” I whisper.
“They want to see our documents.”
I tell Max to unzip the inside pocket of my handbag and give the police officers my passport.
The police leave a few minutes later, and I drift off again.
When I get up later, my passport is lying on my laptop keyboard. My whole body aches and my hands and feet are like ice. I make some tea and Max tells me that the police demanded to know why a foreigner was living with him and warned that if anything happens to me, he’ll pay.
“But there’s nothing illegal about me living here,” I say.
Max shrugs. “I know. They know that too.”