The Last of the Soap

I woke up early on Saturday morning because I was informed that a young Swedish student was coming at 9:15 to see the apartment.  I wanted to make sure my room was in order and that I had at least had my coffee before interacting with the potential new resident of Genevieve’s apartment.  It turns out they arrived around 9:45 and to my surprise the Swedish girl had already decided to take the room.  She came baggage and all!  I told her that I would pack up my stuff and sleep in the living room so she could begin getting settled.

I could tell that she was a little overwhelmed by the next step she had just taken.  I got dressed, packed up my stuff (which wasn’t hard because I had been living out of a suitcase for th past three weeks) and moving into the living room.  I started to explain the which the apartment works, the bathroom, the front door, Genevieve…  She was taking it all in.  Her English was much better than her French so I was explaining pretty much everything that Genevieve had gone over with her in French.  She was nice, a little timid, but I’m sure a couple days with Genevieve and she’ll come out of her shell.  So Saturday night I went to take my last shower in Genevieve’s apartment.  I was doing my regular routine when I went to grab the last little sliver of my soap.  This particular soap that I had been using, I took from the Hotel de Simplon the morning that I moved to Genevieve’s apartment.  It was about the size of an oreo cookie but a bit thicker.  This last shower that I was taking was the last time I would be using that soap.  It literally disintegrated in my hand as I finished.  I thought that was quite profound that it was the soap that came and left with me.