Photo Source: Unsplash I walked in without a knock. He was on the top bunk. There were eight beds in the room, all suffused with a sort of orange light of the evening. He did not look at me when I walked in. But, later, he smiled and introduced himself. I had wanted a hotel room. There was none available for Christmas. I had walked in from France, for the Christmas break from the School where I was teaching English to French fellows. Peter had blond hair, and he was barely fifteen. It was...