0.8|when tearing off a poster|

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0.8|from Sabah's hastily scribbled notes on tissue paper: when tearing off a poster|

"Old woman!" one of my customers called. "What the fuck is this? I asked for a whipped cream mocha.

I stared at him for whole minute, not registering a word of what he had said. Finally, understanding that I had given the wrong order, I took his cup away, promising to bring his order as soon as possible, forgetting even to apologize.

Ever since I had seen the poster on one of the window panes of my coffee shop I could hardly concentrate. At first, I had been angry, shaking in rage at the boys who had stuck the poster on my spotless window panes blocking a full rectangle of light from entering my dimly lit cafe. With the full intention of throwing some well-aimed eggs at those little sons of bitches (don't look at me like that, Sabah) I ran out, only to stop short at catching sight of one of the players on the Real Madrid team.

It was such a shock that I never even threw the eggs at those little-no, I didn't even have the thought of taking off the poster and tearing it to bits with vengeance like I usually did. I just stood there, mouth sagging open.

Staring right back at me, fitting comfortably in his white jersey, smile frozen in the poster was him. My mind refused to believe it. He couldn't be one, he couldn't be a footballer, for God's sake!

He was just an ordinary young man, an ordinary young man with endearing smiles, good manners and, it then struck me, expensive clothes and an iPhone (don't ask me which one, I have lost track, they bring out a new one every now and then)! I gingerly tore the poster, taking care not to damage it, and folding it, wondered what Auburn would say when she would come to know.

"Carlotta!" Auburn's happy voice, mingled with the soft chimes. "I'm here."

I didn't even comment on her sudden happy mood which otherwise would have prompted a comment about Anthony from me. I just grabbed her arm and, checking that the customers were busy drinking their steaming cups of coffee, pulled her into the kitchen.

I had to tell her.

Anthony's secret.

[yay! the story is progressing awww. in case, it wasn't evident, the brackets are also Carlotta speaking. sorry for the language eep...

tea/coffee? comment and let me know :D mine's both ayee

and ofc, vote+comment and tell me what you thought of this chapter bc this chapter should be like an epic event in the story.

status: listening to the 1975, dancing and singing aloud (probably wrong lyrics) while readings for college stack up

oh and *hands out whipped cream mocha* ;)

ilyall]


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