in one of those cafes in which I would like to be the client who is asked “As usual?”. I was seated at a table in front of the barista, who was smiling to me, well, or not only to me ... The sweet waitress brought me my coffee and free biscuit (who would refuse such a Free Chocolate Biscuit?).. Today it was less crowded than usual, and this morning had to be calm. Once again, drinking this incredible beverage, I noticed a girl who was sitting near the window on a pink sofa, rather I noticed her sneakers first, and then her. These snow-white Puma`s beckoned to approach and praise the girl’s sense of style, but I preferred to stay on my place. The color of her hair was so natural that I even for a second forgot that natural pink-colored hair does not exist.
It appears she ordered a strawberry milkshake, which perfectly matched the color of her cheeks. It seemed as if she was waiting for someone - nervously glancing at the clock, perhaps she does not like when people are late, but let's be honest, who generally loves when people are late. She quickly drank her cocktail and took a mirror from her bag to fix her makeup.
However, she seemed to have been replaced; now she was sitting quietly, not twitching, just looking out the window. I did not notice the ring on her hand, so I dare to assume that she is not married, and that whom she is waiting for will obviously not become her future husband, since he is late.
My coffee was cooling off, and the cookie was completely uninteresting, it was much more interesting to watch this young girl, who for some reason inspired confidence in me. Most likely, everyone at the school and at the university loved her, or hated her, how obvious it is; I never won the lottery, but my grandmother did, she played and always guessed something every week, I am sure that now she would easily have opened the curtain on the story of this stranger.
This morning was gently pink in color, which literally soared in the air, from a pink sofa, floor tiles, and her pink cheeks. For a second I even thought about the fact that we need to get to know each other, but I realized that the time is not good. She was obviously waiting for someone. Having paid her bill, she did not move, and sat as frozen as a work of art.
After a couple of minutes, she took out a notebook from her bag, and quickly began to write everything down. A couple of times I met her eyes and she continued to write. “Is she a writer? Does she write about me the same way I did about her?” - I thought. She has been writing for about fifteen minutes, when she realized that there was no ink left in the pen, she moved the bag aside, closed the notebook and pushed her foot into the territory of the floor tile, and she slowly and timidly rearranged her legs in my direction, and then got up and went to me:
“Excuse me, I am so sorry to interrupt you morning ritual, but my pen ran out of ink, could you please lend me a pen if you have an extra one?” She asked me.
There was no limit to my delight, but I tried not to show my manic smile. Then my brain finally sent an impulse to search for a pen, and after a moment, I found a pencil, and offered it instead of a pen. She smiled, stretched out her hand and said:
“Thank you, I will give it back to you in ten minutes”
I scrolled in my head every second of our conversation, and remembered what I didn’t notice right away, it was her tattoo on her left arm, where it was written “Live-love”. What could this mean, what kind of tattoo and why she came exactly to me. Was she a writer or just a girl who fills the diary? Or, maybe these notes are just working ones? Was her excellent style of dressing today an accident and why did her cocktail fit the color of her skin so much, and did the sky-colored eyes inspire confidence? Is she a pink-lover? I did not figure out the answers to all these questions, just leaving money for my cold coffee, I went to the exit of the cafe, turned around to look at her for last time, perhaps, and saw a smile in response.
Pinkish part 2
Having got out from the cafe, the euphoria after dating, if I can call it like that, with a stranger passed, and 30-degree heat, which literally melted asphalt on cars under the wheels, hit me. After straightening my shirt, I walked at a leisurely pace toward the theater. Do not think that I am a lover of trips to such cultural places like theaters, but this one has a courtyard inside, where there are usually few people, and it is quiet, which would really help me to concentrate right now. Waiting for a sign from a traffic light in the form of a green light, I regretted thousands of times not wearing a cap today; it seemed to me that brains would actually melt in a second if I did not cross the road into shadow.
Suddenly, someone touched my shoulder and he head reflexively turned to the right, where I saw the pink hair of the girl who has got out of my head just a few minutes ago. She said calmly:
“I forgot to give back you your pencil, and when I remembered, you have already gone, and then I saw you in the window, and decided to catch you up,” she said, smiling and handed a pencil to me.
I did not remember a word of what she said. But did she come out just to give me a pencil? This question tormented me more than unbearable heat. Now the sun has been already in second place for anxiety, and all I could answer was “Oh, thank you”.
She stood for a short time, probably waiting for some more words from me, but I just forcedly smiled and stared at her eyes.
The girl awkwardly walked away and said goodbye, and then went back to the cafe. I was as confused as when my mother recorded me for ballroom dancing, I was 8 and I was afraid of people after that, believe me, that was awkward.
A minute of thought went to my advantage, and having gathered all my pride into a fist, I went back to the cafe. She was sitting in the same place near the window on a pink couch. I approached her, and she genuinely surprised my appearance near her table.
“I go to the theater, because they have a very quiet courtyard, and there you can find a pen if you need it,” I said with the hope she will agree to walk with me.
“I gonna have a meeting, so ...” she did not continue, but I understood everything. Probably my initial judgment was correct, she was waiting for someone and this someone did not come or was late. I turned around and sadly went to the exit. Not that I would be very upset, because she was beautiful, but because I could have already been in that wonderful place where I was going, and I would not need to say goodbye to my pride for a girl who is not at all interested in my society.
“Wait, okay, we can walk to that park, probably, no one will come anyway,” her voice sounded as a sign from above to facilitate my self-flagellation at the end of the day.
Later she told me that she works as an author of articles in a scientific journal, and writes about technology, research and development, although in fact she doesn’t understand anything about it. This seems to be the problem of our educational system. People who have graduated from universities with a specialty journalism know absolutely nothing about the industries in which they will work and what they will write about. It is unlikely that someone who does not understand anything in business can create an ingenious article on how to succeed on the stock exchange. Nevertheless, she did not seem the one who does not understand anything in science. I think this was somehow sexy. In her way of presenting her thoughts and how she gestures at this time. I didn’t see anything vulgar in the word sexuality, but I couldn’t tell her that at the first meeting.
In that park, we talked about many things, about her interests, about mine, about the books that we read, and our role models. It was interesting to watch her thoughts and hands, as well as how she constantly nervously straightened her hair. The girl, who for a second was just a distraction from everyday life and routine, became the object of my amorousness research.
She sometimes touched my hand, that flattered me, because what could be the best sign of her interest in our communication? I thought that it would be nice to meet once, but I did not dare to say this suggestion aloud. Maybe I was afraid of a negative answer, because I wanted to see her once more (and no matter how confusing my thoughts were, I decided to remain inactive and just watch the wind gently blow her hair back onto her back, revealing her neck and bringing to me the scent of her perfume). She did not seem to such a lady, but was so tempting that I seriously thought that I was sick and I needed to have rest.
We did not notice how time passed, and it was time to go home. I offered to escort her home, but she politely refused, explaining that we barely knew each other, but I did not insist on it, I did not want to seem like a maniac or a pursuer.
We left the theater and stood at the entrance looking at each other, and none of us could break this sacrament moment. She timidly approached me closer and kissed my cheek, pointing out her sympathy for me, and then quickly took a few steps back and left, after a second she turned and shouted:
“It's funny how it was, by the way, my name is Elizabeth” She laughed and ran off towards the subway.
Dozens of sakura leaves, which grew near the theater, flown behind her, that incredibly suited her hair color. I literally imagined her voice in my head, and scrolled through her words a hundred million times, that made me crazy for a moment.
I was standing near the big wooden doors of the theater completely lost. It seemed to me that all this was some kind of pink veil that embraced my body for a couple of hours.
But the feeling of fullness was gone when I realized that she has gone, leaving me only a kiss and her name. I didn’t have her phone number, and I didn’t know where she lived, because of that thought, my hands dropped and I looked down.
I realized that I do not know how to find her. “That could be the story of my life” – I thought.
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