“Hi. Excuse me, that was my seat,” I said and pointed to the chair, the cornbread and cutlery.

Both apologized, scooted over, and then dove into their menus. These ones weren’t chatty at all. Their aura radiated, ‘I’m on a mission, I am very secretive, don’t bother me.’. I couldn’t tell if they were relatives, business partners, or friends. But I didn’t care, either.

The cornbread with white, fluffy, whipped butter was warm and delicious. The Genevieve arrived, and it was fresh and delicious. Yap, indeed a little strong for a lunch drink, as I noticed even the first sip rushing straight to my head. Apparently, there was a reason to have dedicated lunch and dinner drinks. Minutes later, the burger arrived. Wow. Now, call this a burger! It was served open. Both halves were lying next to each other and were framed by deliciously looking French fries.

“Would you like to have some ketchup with it?” nameless waiter asked.

“Yes, please. That’d be excellent,” I said without having tasted the first fry. I picked one up and took a bite. Its taste danced on my tongue. It was good. So good. Delicious! It did not need any ketchup. Not a droplet. ‘Waiter! No ketchup needed!’ I should have shouted. You know, usually, I drown my fries in ketchup. A friend once said I was eating fries with my ketchup – he hadn’t been joking. But with these – a single drop of red sauce would have spoiled the pleasure.

“I think they are magic,” I heard someone say, and as I turned around, I saw this most wonderful pair of sparkling eyes looking at me.

As swiftly as he had appeared, he was gone again, but now I knew, now I knew that he was not going to leave. He was working here. He kept his distance, but it was a distance from where he could see me. I felt him looking at me, and I liked it. I also liked looking at him. When he saw me looking at him, he smiled, and I smiled. I guess I smiled that entire day.

Earlier, he had suddenly appeared to my right, had folded his hands, and nonchalantly placed them on the bar table. He certainly looked comfortable. Me, sitting on the elevated bar chair, could see right into his eyes. Green! They were green! I love green! And this timid smile… He was back! Darling, handsome man was back! So much for the roses.

“How do you like it here?” he had asked.

“Oh, I think it’s gorgeous!” I’d said.

“Where are you from?” Whack! Gosh, was it this obvious that I was not from here? My English was good, but apparently not good enough to not right away be detected as an alien.

“I’m from Germany,” I replied, curious to see his reaction. Usually, people are surprised when they hear me say Germany. I have the feeling they’d been expecting Italy, Spain, maybe even France, Greece, or Lebanon, but Germany – no one expects that – thanks mom, thanks dad. But still, did he have to notice this quickly, this early on in the conversation, that I was a foreigner?