The previous days, I’d been to amazing restaurants and had met fun and interesting people: a female circus director from Finland, a young man working at the Prada store, and a girl from Bulgaria who had invited me to join her to a party. For sure, these people were not going to become friends for a lifetime, but talking and listening to their stories was enchanting and delightful. People in this summer’s state were so chatty – and hungry, too. Hungry for food and hungry for life. The people, the city, here, all facets of life had gotten a good polishing and now were showing their most dazzling sides. I wanted more of this. I wanted to live life more. I wanted to be bolder. Part of me was ready to play with fire. I knew fire could hurt me terribly or cook up something wonderful. I was willing to accept both. Never before had I allowed myself to be this brave and wanton – I was curious, but for now, all I knew was that I was hungry for food, for life and love, for new experiences and discoveries, and to let go of some of my anxieties. I was in to conquer some of my fears and break some of my rules; I was in to fully dare and to live. I was…

And here I was: Shaken to the bone by a generous, charming, smiling, handsome man. Here I was, sitting at this table in this restaurant – dizzy. So much for my bravery.

I put my purse on the seat next to me to mark my space. Occupying more territory made me feel that it was more okay to be here, all by myself, not meeting with anybody, and actually being a stranger, a tourist even—which, of course, I was.

The waiter arrived with the menu. He was young, good-looking, and polite, yet I felt that he was in a rush. Lunchtime was about to start or had just begun, the busy time of his shift. I felt my stomach growl. I had gotten up lazily and just grabbed a few bites of watermelon and a piece of chocolate before starting my journey. Growl. Growl. Growl. Hungry, hungry me.

“So, what do they serve at this place?” I wondered.

The lunch menu wasn’t exhaustive, but my eyes were not willing to read much anyway. They were still focused on the entrance scene, seeing it from all possible angles, and my mind’s stage director put on all different lights, colors, and sounds. While they were happy staging, my body said, ‘Hungry! Now!’ Ok, so food, food, food, I flipped through the menu. Cocktails! Lunch cocktails. O yeah, a drink was just what I needed.

I figured that a drink would help me escape this drunken state of mind. Besides, a lunch cocktail made me feel as if I was living in the 1920s. It made me imagine luxurious garden parties, flamboyant dresses, life in bright light, and people chatting and mingling. F. Scott Fitzgerald had written about ‘Society Vampires,’ and a drink at noon made me feel just like one of them: glamorous, strong, taking what I needed. Besides, a dash of vampire-esqueness would fit nicely with a man with the Count’s eyebrows, wouldn’t it?