A flirtatious encounter with the lady behind the espresso-machine. I laughed while she was trying to spell my name, she laughed when I said that she could call me whatever she wanted. She Looked at me shyly while she made the coffee, gave me another 15 minutes later, with her name and number on the papercup, and I though, “Is it the jacket that does it?”.
That kind of shit never happens to my, neither at home, nor on foreign soil.
But, hey, she deserves a call, don’tyouthink?
