The Polish Experience By Nicholas Westerby This ... - GetSab.Com

that was stuffed into them was pizza flyers and more stuff about language
schools.
We took the stairs up to the fourth floor and again I realised how horrible my
level of fitness had become. He unlocked his battered door and the stench from
the apartment is enough to wake the dead. He cracked a window but I suggested
that we sat on the balcony. I made my way past the half empty beer cans, over
the partially eaten food and the swamp of abandoned clothes. The balcony was
cramped but at least it had fresh air.
He returned with the coffees and looked steady enough. He slumped down in a
deck chair and took in the depressing view of other high rises and a busy road.
“What brings you down here?”
“You do. I went to the office and you weren’t there. They said you and Monika
had left. What’s going on bro?”
“That snivelling little horse shit bitch.” He sneered. “She went back to her
sponsor and I may have fucked with a few translations as pay back.”
“Her sponsor? She was an addict?”
I was surprised because she didn’t seem the type but really what is the type?