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Chapter 2

We were sitting in that usual cafe I like, while he kept chucking my face with his gaze.

I didn’t feel comfortable and I asked myself why I let him sharing my table. He kept silent and I was lost. Speechless is a quite description for my case, but instead I do prefer the word helpless. I wish I could have my invite back, ordering him to leave, but I couldn’t.

I kept touching my teaspoon in hysteric way. He kept gazing at me.

“What do you want from me, exactly?” I finally asked.

“What do you want from yourself?” He shoots back, while a nasty cold little grin eating his face.

Philosophical shit. so deep man! I leaned back my chair, averting my eyes.

He’s driving me crazy. And he knows that.

Silence still.

“OK,” I said while standing “I better get going, as you are wasting my time here”.

“Am I?” A gleam of recklessness lit up his eyes.

“No,” I reply, “It’s me who’s wasting his own time”.

I put on my jacket, glanced at the waitress as thinking to wait for the check, and then I made up my mind to pay it myself at the casher. In the very moment I moved my leg he said “Are you gonna return to your gloomy pathetic shit hole, trying to write nonsense again?” I stopped, giving him an icy glare. I was confused but now am really angry.

“Do you think that’s funny?” I said, feeling a fireball is banging into my chest. “You are nothing but a scum whom spying on people”.

“Sure,” He said, “but that means am a hell of a spy. Right?”

Why I am still standing in here?

“That’s why you invited me to your petty favorite cafe table. To know how I’d know”.

I kept standing.

“Nasty porn on your pc, your fucken morning tea mug without sugar, your new novel about a Psycho loser which you didn’t told anybody, your father whom you never knew, your Mother who has left you while you were only 11 year old, and may I add your girl...” He stopped for a second in front of my red face, and then continued with a sick cunning smile “Nah. She isn’t your girl. And you know she’ll never be”.

I kept standing, my face still red, but my hands were cold into my jacket pockets.

“I see you didn’t leave. Maybe to know how I’d know? Maybe to know how far I went?” He said. His lips eventually met then stretched a bit. He seems to be sitting in ease, enjoying every second passing. He’s resting as an emperor judging his war slaves, his eyes blinking in a slow, confident way.

Suddenly he stood up, digging his hands in his coats pockets. “Why should you leave? It’s your place here, pal”. There was a deliberate irony in his tone. He left me behind him with his hastening strolling.

I kept standing.

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