A drip from the ceiling splatters onto his forehead.

“His eyes… They open,” is heard in broken English.

A fuzzy recollection of the previous night arises.

A fight with burglars in the hotel room upstairs.

A knife flashed and bodies fell.

Another drip, blood… But whose, and why the handcuffs?

John B Sinclair is a much-travelled Scot who has now returned to Scotland, where he enjoys freelance writing on a variety of subjects.