The twelve-hour train ride to Potosi was not only long it was boring. Had it not been for the Local Boy Scout troop and their Russian made machine guns the whole ride would have been a lose, what with the strutting and bullying of the other passengers. Russell merely pulled his hat over his face and drifted off to sleep. A few hours later, he woke and could feel the thinner colder air. He pulled a nutrition bar out of his leg pocket, eating it and trying to ignore the stench around him. He flipped the collar of his wide ribbed black turtleneck up over his mouth and nose and let his mind drift back over the centuries. It was more of a mental exercise than anything else, just a little game he played with himself, trying to remember all his past selves. Inevitably, his mind drifted to ‘her’, Katharine this last time. She would find someone new to live this life out with, she always did, having children and doing the things a normal human female did. She would find him again. He would know it was her instantly. His biggest enjoyment was watching her fall in love with him all over again. It was that that made it tolerably to leave her each time he had had to let her go.

The next time he woke, he was in Potosi. The train screeched to a halt and he grabbed his duffle bag and left the train. There were no street urchins here to harass him, just the native population going about their daily lives. He hailed an old 1950 something Studebaker taxi and climbed in the back seat, wondering if should tell the driver what it might be worth in the US.

“Hotel por favor,” he said to the driver.

He settled into his room and waited.