Looks like my roommate did a moonlight flit.
When he was leaving on Monday morning and wanted me to drop his holdall from the window for him; when he wasn’t in the room as I returned in the wee small hours after my afternoon shift; I just wondered what was going on. But it was only when I was told the following morning by the porter he was in arrears with his rent that I began suspecting.
Nor was he there on Tuesday night, when another inhabitant told me he owed what amounted to more than two months’ rent; this morning people were already looking for him. I may still find him there when I get to the hostel, but somehow I doubt it. In fact, I’ve already begun tidying the mess he’d left behind.
I have to admit I miss him a bit. During the fornight since my arrival, he was (save for Rob of course) the only person here I enjoyed talking too. I may have the room for myself for some time, which wouldn’t be bad either, but I’m anxious about who my next roommate would be . . .
And I hope he’ll get along, although I’ll probably never know; never hear of him again.
Postscript, 6/6: As soon as the morning after I’d written this two charwomen came to pack his possessions into black bags for storing away. Needless to say, he didn’t return.