SIERRA'S LEONE

MENAGE A TROIS

Sierra's mouth remained open as the vast lorry pulled up.

Jonas jumped out and spoke to the driver in Swedish.

All Sierra understood was the contents of the truck were Jonas's belongings.

"Hi Sierra," the man said in a perky voice.

"Hello, Mr.Pots."

"It's Potsmann, and please call me Jonas," the man said before going to the back of the lorry.

Jonas wondered why the woman persisted in calling him Mr. Pots.

Sierra followed Jonas with Leone in her arms, "Eh, Mr., I mean Jonas, do you think I live in a condo or Buckingham place?"

Jonas turned, "I beg your pardon?"

Sierra adjusted Leone's position and pointed to the lorry, "Wha-what is this? Where on earth do you think I can stock all of that?"

"It's two times nothing; I told you, I can work from anywhere, but I need my stuff," Jonas said while he pursued in bringing out his belongings.

"What are you, a black Smith or something?" Sierra asked as she saw the kick peddle for the first time. Since Jonas was Swedish, the cliché did not seem too farfetched as Sierra recalled the Viking series's images. Ragnar Lodbrok seemed to be moving in with her.

Jonas laughed warm-heartedly. He, too, read between the lines of Sierra's words, " I promise to arrange things well. Now tell me where we can enter."

Sierra was taken aback by the man's seamless, positive attitude. One could think Jonas did this often or that he and Sierra knew each other for ages.

From the outside, things looked different, "wow, first it was the white kid, now, it's Steve Jobs," said the shopkeeper of the corner shop who watched Jonas push his Apple tv and other high-tech equipment into the gateway.

"Do you know what that is? Her last boyfriend must have done something wrong for her to cross the river," Asma said to her husband as she placed the fruits and vegetables on the outdoor racks.

Sierra turned and threw a dark stare as they spoke loud enough to be heard by the whole neighborhood.

"Sierra?" The men's voice snapped her out of her daze.

"Eh, this way."

Sierra led the way, but her thoughts raced as she imagined what all her neighborhood gossiped about at that instant. No one knew the details surrounding her new occupant or Leone. St Denis was known to be populated by immigrants for the most.

The migration to the French capital made even the upper-class population search for the least costly households. St Denis became one of the destinations with the new constructions, cinema studios, and big company headquarters.

Despite that, it remained tagged as the immigration parking lot with most African, Indian, Eastern European populations. Paradoxically, it was a cultural pot without the melting part.

Jonas's clean-cut Scandinavian appearance stood out as much as Leone's feather blonde hair.

The lorry driver and Jonas went back and forth, bringing the rest of his luggage. An hour later, Jonas said goodbye to the man and joined Serra in her apartment, "Woah, well, I'm glad that's over."

Sierra looked at the parcels at the man's feet, representing a laptop case, a backpack, and another suitcase. If this was all, he brought Sierra would have thought he traveled light. But the material which now covered a full wall in her apartment scratched the theory.