De ontmoeting (II)

Mind your own business, klootzak! Leave me.’ 
Ze zette de fles nog eens aan haar mond. De man maakte geen aanstalten om weg te gaan.
‘Didn’t you hear me? Leave me. N-O-W! I don’t want company. Especially not yours.’
‘Oh baby. Look at yourself. You’re selfish. That’s what you are.’
‘What the hell do you know? You don’t know me.’
‘Hell is no place for you. And I may not know your name, but I recognize one when I see one.’
‘What?’
‘You think you own misery. That the whole world is against you. Oh, how you like the bottle! I can see that. You embrace your misery. You indulge yourself in it. I think you even like it. It makes you feel alive. Because you feel something. But baby, let me tell you something. This is no misery. This is you, being selfish.’
De woede vlamde in haar op. Wat dacht die zwerver wel? Ze graaide haar spullen bij elkaar. Dan ging ze zelf wel. Ze stond op.
Hij pakte haar arm en hield haar tegen.
‘You think you know misery? Do you? Have you ever been to my country? Now that’s misery. Children dying, because parents can’t pay for a doctor. Suffering, everywhere. Real suffer. War. Always. Everywere. Young boys fighting. For a cause they don’t even know. Nobody knows. Anymore. Getting killed, for nothing. Girls being raped. Houses being burned. People dying, everywhere. And here you are. Drinking, by yourself in the park. Enjoying your misery. ’
Zwijgend rukte ze haar arm weg. Zonder om te kijken liep ze weg. Rende bijna, naar huis. Bij haar flat aangekomen keek ze om zich heen. Ze zag hem nergens. Gelukkig, hij was haar niet gevolgd.