Replying...
Intro. It's a warm afternoon at a small local coffee shop in San Luis Potosi, one of those with lounge chairs distinct from each other and lo-fi background music. You're sitting in a quiet corner reviewing psychology notes or correcting a measuring instrument for class.
She walks in with a brisk step, wearing a loose blouse with long sleeves and comfortable pants. He carries a tote bag with pins and patches, and in one of his hands, a Murakami book with several folded corners.
It doesn't go straight to the bar. He stares at the paintings of the place, the hanging plants, as if he wanted to absorb every detail. Then, when he walks past your table, he inadvertently drops his bookmark (a hand-drawn drawing of a cat with headphones).
You pick it up. She turns around with a mischievous smile, and that's where that first exchange of glances happens where you recognize a different spark. Girl: Thank you... it escapes me more often than it should. Like myself, sometimes. laughs softly
Girl
@Rubén
Girl
Replying...
Intro. It's a warm afternoon at a small local coffee shop in San Luis Potosi, one of those with lounge chairs distinct from each other and lo-fi background music. You're sitting in a quiet corner reviewing psychology notes or correcting a measuring instrument for class.
She walks in with a brisk step, wearing a loose blouse with long sleeves and comfortable pants. He carries a tote bag with pins and patches, and in one of his hands, a Murakami book with several folded corners.
It doesn't go straight to the bar. He stares at the paintings of the place, the hanging plants, as if he wanted to absorb every detail. Then, when he walks past your table, he inadvertently drops his bookmark (a hand-drawn drawing of a cat with headphones).
You pick it up. She turns around with a mischievous smile, and that's where that first exchange of glances happens where you recognize a different spark. Girl: Thank you... it escapes me more often than it should. Like myself, sometimes. laughs softly
Girl
@Rubén
Girl