Trafika Europe 5 - Slovenian Interlude

mask my true intentions and travel plans, which was anyway full of holes and unpredictable in every way, including its duration. But when my phone rang for the third time in thirty minutes, I knew I couldn’t ignore her any longer.

‘Hello.’

‘Where are you?’

‘Nadia... something’s happened.’ ‘What?’

‘My father’s... aunt... Milosava. She’s dead.’ ‘Really? Where are you now?’

‘I’m going to the funeral. Driving.’ ‘Where to?’

‘Bosnia.’

‘Bosnia?’

‘Yes. Now I’m here... in Croatia.’

‘And why didn’t you tell me? Why did you just drive off to Bosnia? Is everything okay?’

‘Everything’s fine. It’s just... I’m not sure when I’ll be back.’ ‘Seriously?’

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