A fortune-teller told Peter that he'd meet the girl of his dreams.
'Her hair is the colour of...' she whispered.
The man shrugged and paid the old woman.
'Keep the change'.
As he was flying home that night, he didn't need to keep the foreign small change .
He would spend the remainder on a coffee and a cigarette, so he sauntered to the nearest cafe.
A waitress refilled his espresso. Peter glanced briefly from the novel he was drafting, to thank her, unable to see her face as the evening sun haloed her hair.
The writer sipped his coffee, admiring the view of the cathedral. He also noticed a beautiful woman in a blue dress, her hair matching the gypsy's description. Her coffee drunk, she left the cafe.
Stubbing out his cigarette he followed the woman, at a distance. Perhaps he could bump into her, strike up a conversation. If nothing came of the encounter, it would be material for his medieval thriller. He stopped in his tracks when he saw her step into a wig shop and watched as the assistant removed her wig!
Hurrying away , disappointed Peter tripped on the cobbles. Ignoring the pain and pleased that his writer's block lifted.
The cafe-waitress cleared more tables and went into the kitchen.
'It suits you,' said the chef, 'and our customers love it.'
The waitress grimaced. She hated it. The contact lenses made her eyes itch.
Where was this 'man of her dreams' the gypsy woman told her she would meet.
'A non-smoker with a limp' she cackled.
The waitress gave all her day's tips to the gaunt woman.
The hunger of her own heart could wait. Wendy went back to work.
Clearing the ash-tray from a table she noticed the camera and was about to take it to the manager when she heard a man's voice behind her 'Oh great! My camera, you found it'.
He laughed 'Beautiful city! those cobble-stones ...sure cobbled me! By the way my name is Peter and let me buy you a drink to thank you.'
She hesitated.
'I have to celebrate today with somebody. Just one drink. Please.'
'Okay' smiled the waitress.
After she finished work they went to a nearby bistro.
'
Your hair and eyes are very striking' said Peter.
She laughed, 'Not my real colour, it's just as temporary as the job. I study medieval history and this is my summer job.'
Peter's eyes widened when she told him what her natural colour was.
They chatted over another drink. 'I will give that up too, just as easily as today I have given up smoking' said the writer.
They agreed to meet again, she would show him around the city. He cancelled his flight.
The waitress watched him limp away.
Peter was smiling and so was Wendy.
They were perfectly matched.
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Short Story👨🏾💻"Ashwin's enquiries into the geological anomalies of the sites have not endeared him to the multi-national higher-ups, who are more interested in milking the land for valuable minerals to line their own pockets."🇮🇳 🌏His world will never be...
