Opium Dam & Eva

Chapter 1. (3)

Generosity: + 20

Mind: + 50

Do you play video games? I don't! Well, I confess: sometimes it happens. Very rarely, when I sincerely get tired of permanent self-improvement. Why did I remember this right now? Because any beginning of feelings reminds me of the quest: get 1000 points and go to the next level.

My face is smiling even wider. No, not because I was given a brownie, but because there is a note next to the dish. On a dense coffee color Starbucks napkin in a clear, precise, neat handwriting is written the following:

"Are you meeting or leaving?"

I am fishing a purple pencil out of my backpack and carefully, as beautifully as possible, draw each letter:

"Neither one nor the other"

A Chinese girl picks up the note and carries it to my handsome fellow, also handing it with both hands. She smiles him wider than she should; and I am squeezed by a strange feeling. Such a painful one. Unpleasant.

The barmaid waits until the guy scratches his answer, then leaves with his credit card, leaving the twenty in cash on the table untouched. Wow! Tipping is not taken for her kind services, and my teeth begin to grind.

While we look at each other, still smiling, I seriously consider the idea of ​​transferring to his table. Because he also smiled to the Chinese woman with mountain ash lipstick on her full lips!

I generally thought for a long time lately and decided that there isn't any harm in casual sex. And there is no immorality either - it's like running to McDonald's if you can't dine at a restaurant.

Chinese physiognomy appears again at my desk. Again with a black square plate: this time Tiramisu. And it finally reaches me: he watched me! A smile stretches my disgruntled mine, I thank the barmaid and accept our napkin dialogue:

"Will you go on a date?"

I bring the answer:

"And what if you are a maniac, and the airport is your place of hunting?"

After getting the napkin back the beautiful stranger smiles even wider and, having flashed his dark eyes in my address, writes something again.

On the third black plate I get a glass with a cocktail and ice cream.

"This is my favorite dessert. I recommend!"

Below the message there is a telephone number, written in big round figures, and a small signature:

"If you type this sequence of numbers in your cell, you can find your luck. Try it! What if it magically works?"

I look up and discover that my new pen-pal has disappeared. Just blew away. As if there wasn't any dialogue, any beautiful stranger, but only my dreams. I touch the edge of a black plate with tiramisu to check my sanity: no, after all, there was this crank with cakes. He's just been sitting at the opposite table, smiling, looking into my eyes and giving me delicacies.