CHAPTER 13
If I slept at all last night, I certainly don’t remember it. As far as I can recall, I spent the entire night in our Pyongyang hotel staring at the ceiling and listening to Hee-Man’s drunken snoring. I don’t know how long he’s going to be stuck to my side like a bad canker sore, but for now we’re together. He might be enjoying his vacation in Pyongyang, but I’ve got to get home.
I run through everything Hee-Man’s told me in the past few days. Information about my case, about my supposed crimes. I recall everything he said before we left for Pyongyang. Can I chalk it up to a cross-cultural miscommunication? In his mind, does saying we’re going to Pyongyang so you can fill out some paperwork and go home actually mean oh, by the way, you’re on trial for espionage?
None of it mak
