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- Нил Гейман
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"
There
is
a
name
on
my
driving
permit
,
but
it
is
not
mine
,
"
the
ifrit
says
.
Afterward
,
Salim
could
not
remember
where
the
sex
had
stopped
and
the
dreams
began
When
Salim
wakes
,
the
cold
sun
creeping
into
the
white
room
,
he
is
alone
.
Also
,
he
discovers
,
his
sample
case
is
gone
,
all
the
bottles
and
rings
and
souvenir
copper
flashlights
,
all
gone
,
along
with
his
suitcase
,
his
wallet
,
his
passport
,
and
his
air
tickets
back
to
Oman
.
He
finds
a
pair
of
jeans
,
the
T
-
shirt
,
and
the
dust
-
colored
woolen
sweater
discarded
on
the
floor
.
Beneath
them
he
finds
a
driver
’
s
license
in
the
name
of
Ibrahim
bin
Irem
,
a
taxi
permit
in
the
same
name
,
and
a
ring
of
keys
with
an
address
written
on
a
piece
of
paper
attached
to
them
in
English
.
The
photographs
on
the
license
and
the
permit
ID
do
not
look
much
like
Salim
,
but
then
,
they
did
not
look
much
like
the
ifrit
.
The
telephone
rings
:
it
is
the
front
desk
calling
to
point
out
that
Salim
has
already
checked
out
,
and
his
guest
needs
to
leave
soon
so
that
they
can
service
the
room
,
to
get
it
ready
for
another
occupant
.
"
I
do
not
grant
wishes
,
"
says
Salim
,
tasting
the
way
the
words
shape
themselves
in
his
mouth
.
He
feels
strangely
light
-
headed
as
he
dresses
.
New
York
is
very
simple
:
the
avenues
run
north
to
south
,
the
streets
run
west
to
east
.
How
hard
can
it
be
?
he
asks
himself
.
He
tosses
the
car
keys
into
the
air
and
catches
them
.
Then
he
puts
on
the
black
plastic
sunglasses
he
found
in
the
pockets
,
and
leaves
the
hotel
room
to
go
and
look
for
his
cab
.
