The Uninvited Guest
I knew the floods were bad when I saw my neighbor's motorbike floating past the window like some kind of depressed submarine. Jakarta's rainy season had outdone itself this year, turning our street into a murky river that smelled vaguely of sewage and regret. But I didn't panic. I'd lived through floods before. I moved the electronics upstairs, put on my rubber boots, and made peace with the fact that my downstairs toilet was now part of the greater Jakarta water system. What I wasn't prepared for was Kevin. I discovered him on the second morning, sunbathing on what used to be my herb garden. Well, "sunbathing" might be generous. He was more like... existing. A baby crocodile, no bigger than my forearm, just chilling among my drowned basil plants like he'd paid rent. "Oh, hell no," I said. Kevin opened one eye, assessed me, and apparently decided I wasn't interesting enough to murder. He closed it again. I called my friend Dimas. ...
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