Chapter 3: Joey's Bistro

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I was woken up by constant knocking on my door

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I was woken up by constant knocking on my door.

When I finally got out of bed, I started walking towards the door, still half asleep.

"I'm going. I'm going." I shouted as I walked.

I opened the door and found a blue head there. "You're not an early bird, are you?"

"What you want?" I ran my hands over my face.

"Since you didn't open the door for me last night, I assumed you were gone." He probably knocked when I went to the store. "I brought you leftover pizza." He held up a box I hadn't even noticed he was holding.

"I'm not your friend." I moved the box closer to his chest. "Stay away from me."

"You know, this 'mystery guy' image," he pointed at me with a circular motion of his hand, "is just calling me closer to you. This is a new city for you. Let me help you..."

"I don't need anyone's help." I jumped into his speech. "So leave me the fuck alone." I slammed the door in his face and headed back to bed.

Maybe it was a bit much, but that doesn't matter.

I want to be alone. That's why I came here.

*****

My gaze darted over the words on the menu in front of me.

I had no plans to go anywhere, but when it was seven o'clock in the evening and I was unable to breathe the air in the apartment, I had to go for fresh air.

Believe it or not, that's progress.

Usually, I would just keep suffocating.

I don't even know how long I walked. I just continued down the sidewalk and stopped in front of a random bistro. I didn't even remember its name.

I sat down at the farthest table, even though the bistro was almost empty. I'm not even surprised at half past eight in the evening.

And especially when the service is really slow.

Finally, after I had read the menu about ten times, a woman with an apron around her waist came out of the door that probably led to the kitchen.

She walked over to me with a smile, but there was something wrong. I don't know what.

Her blonde hair was tied up in a high bun, from which a few strands of hair fell out. Her skin was flawless. She had full lips of soft color and green eyes.

Her narrow waist was accentuated by a brown apron with a bistro logo. Her broad shoulders were lost in a long-sleeved white T-shirt, and her wrists were covered with bracelets.

She carried herself as if she was not in her own skin. As if she had the whole weight of the world on her shoulders.

I know this because I was the same way.

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