Seeing her was not part of the plan, but there she was.
Emerald eyes sparkling, strawberry lips smiling, she came down the stairs. She came to me like Spring, like a sunny day after months of wind and rain. I could not turn and walk away.
“Borislav, what are you doing here?” She asked before kissing me on the cheek.
She was dressed for romance; I was dressed for a funeral.
“Did you come back for me?” She added jokingly, after kissing me.
I had not come back for her or for anyone, but I said “yes.”
“You are inviting me for a cup of coffee, I suppose. I would love to catch up with you.”
“Why not,” I replied, “but I have to see Anton first.”
“So you are the one he is expecting.”
“Yes. Is he in his office?”
“Yes, he is.”
She looked into my eyes, probably wondering what I was really doing there. Then she kissed my other cheek.
“Go now,” she added, “but don’t be long. I will wait for you outside… I will wait for you in the cold.”
This piece was first published on Volkov Is Thinking, under the pseudonym “Borislav Volkov”