Join me in India, where I discover saying goodbye on the road isn’t always easy. I'm in Palolem, Goa, it’s 2013, and a chance encounter had just led to a brief, beautiful adventure that made me question everything I thought my trip was about.
Golden afternoon sunlight flooded in as I unbolted my door to find Arjun standing there.
Inviting him into my room, I showed him photos I'd taken on my solo trip to the neighbouring beach here in Goa. I also mentioned my battle with the wild spray of my shower.
Just as he had with my sunglasses the day before, he said simply:
"I can mend it."
His hands worked the rusty fixture, steady and sure, until the water jet pointed in the right direction.
A wave of relief washed over me and I thanked him profusely. Finally, I'd be able to have a proper shower.
This was the real intimacy I'd missed. Not just physical touch, but these little daily kindnesses. Having someone around who was happy to fix things to make my life better.
Then the panic hit, landing in my stomach.
