It was the time when she used to arrive to the restaurant. She walked in and sat in the lonely chair that was on the right corner, and then she ordered her lunch. She used to arrive at the same hour, always wearing her uniform. The only thing that could change in her appearance was the hairpin on her curled ringlets. And if I could remember well, based on a conversation we had on April, that was only because it was easy to lose them.

I brought her usual meal to the table: fries, chicken and a diet coke.

My hands were shaking. She smiled, and started talking about her day. She didn't know that the only thing I had in my mind while she was talking was how perfect was the red of her lips, which contrasted maliciously with her pale skin full of freckles. To make it worst, they seemed to tempt me on propose with every word she pronounced. They were mocking my desire.

I attended to look somewhere else, trying to take off the goofy face that I knew I had. Though, it may have been a terrible idea because my gaze found her seductive chest that appeared under the neckline of her uniform blouse.


Now I was certainly unaware of any word that was coming out of her mouth.

"And the blue shoes…my papcicle…My dog" she continued talking in the language that was now foreign for my ears. She giggled.

Her laugh was like a drug, it made me relax but it was also addictive.

While I was pretending to listen, I nodded. It was not my best interpretation of somebody that's not stuck on, and that's not imagining how it'd be to suck the nipples of the interlocutor. But it was the only acting skills I had.

A weird noise interrupted her harmonious voice.

Oh… It was I talking. When did I recover the ability of the speech? It must be just an emergency mechanism in my brain.

"I'm fine, you know… the bills…the kids, and it's good" I answer in the same alienated language.

My pathetic monologue seemed to take the happiness away from her. Is she upset? Does she care? Is she jealous? Maybe…I hope.

The place was starting to get full with other clients. Some taxi drivers and business men. It was the alarm that announced the end of my 15 minutes in paradise, and that I had to go back to work.

I decided to give a last look to those pair of blue eyes that still focused on me their attention, still making fun of me, and I used the last line of my repertoire; just because I love when she says my name "Are you going to order something else?"

"No, thanks, Elphaba"