Read The Panda Theory for Free Online Page A

always carry a packet of peanuts around with you.
    ‘I’ve got some. Here.’
    ‘That’s kind, thanks. How much do I owe you?’
    ‘Nothing.’
    ‘No, really, come on.’
    ‘I’ve got some more, it’s fine. What’s in your case?’
    ‘A saxophone.’
    ‘Do you play?’
    ‘No. I’m selling it.’
    ‘Can I have a look?’
    ‘Of course.’
    The man’s hands were very long and thin, like two bigwhite spiders. His dirty fingernails fumbled at the clasp. Inside, coiled like a snake on dark-red velvet, gleaming under the bar’s lights, lay an engraved golden saxophone.
    ‘It’s a Selmer. A real one!’ said the man.
    ‘How much do you want for it?’
    ‘Five hundred? Four fifty? Four hundred?’
    ‘Five hundred then. I’ll take it.’
    The couple stared at Gabriel as he opened his wallet and spread the notes out on the table.
    ‘There you go. Five hundred. Good evening.’
    The man’s Adam’s apple rippled up and down his neck. He gulped like a fish out of water.
    ‘It used to belong to my father. You’ve got a good deal.’
    ‘I wouldn’t know. I’m no expert.’
    Gabriel went back to the bar and placed the small coffin on the counter. Behind him, out of view, the couple grasped each other’s hands, basking in their good fortune. José, his elbow on the counter and the tea towel on his shoulder, rubbed his cheeks.
    ‘Can you play the saxophone?’
    ‘No. Do you think your children would like it?’
    José didn’t answer. He lit a cigarette and took a few short puffs, squinting through the smoke.
    ‘Maybe you’re just mad?’
     

     
     
    No matter how hard he tried, his key wouldn’t turn in the lock. Through the door he heard hurrying footsteps. ‘Who is it?’
    Gabriel took a step back. Room 12.
    ‘Sorry, I …’
    As the door opened, the man from the café was revealed, silhouetted against a yellow glow.
    ‘Oh, it’s you! Have you changed your mind about the saxophone?’
    ‘No, no. It’s just that this used to be my room. It was habit. I made a mistake, I’m sorry.’
    The man stood there in his underpants, dishevelled, a cigarette hanging from his mouth. He seemed confused by Gabriel’s presence. The corridor’s timer light clicked off.
    ‘Which room are you in?’ the man asked.
    ‘Number 22 on the next floor. I’m sorry—’
    ‘Do you want a drink?’
    ‘No, I’m fine, thanks.’
    ‘Come on in. We owe you one. Rita? It’s the man from the café, the one who bought the saxophone. He’s in the same hotel as us.’ The man leant forward towards Gabriel. ‘She’s a bit of all right, isn’t she?’
    The room, his room, stank of alcohol, cigarettes and medication. The window was closed and the radiator was on full. The woman sprawled on the bed wearing very little, her legs spread and her hands behind her head, shamelessly showing off her hairy armpits. She resembled a piece of meat lying on a cloth ready to be sliced up, Gabriel thought. Sleepily, the woman looked up at Gabriel. She seemed almost as bleary-eyed as her partner.
    ‘Well, shit, it’s a small world, isn’t it?’ she said. ‘Sit down. We don’t do standing up.’
    Gabriel sat down at the foot of the bed on the room’s only chair while the man poured him a mouthful of gin in a toothglass.
    ‘Apparently, when you drink from someone else’s glass you see their thoughts. Bad luck for you!’
    ‘Thank you.’
    The man rejoined the woman on the bed, his back propped against the wall. He was obviously not used to making pleasantries, but he said, ‘It’s not everyone who would do what you did! You really got us out of a hole you know.’
    ‘No, I didn’t know. But I’m happy to have been of some help.’
    ‘We were broke.’
    ‘It happens sometimes.’
    ‘More often than we’d like! What brings you here? Are you passing through?’
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘Lucky you. I spent my entire childhood here. The only good thing about this shitty town is it encourages you to move on as soon as possible!’
    ‘But