"Why are you complaining? You've known this from the start. You've checked the weather and everything."

"Well, I haven't thought they would give an accurate prediction."

"Looks like they've improved their technology. Next time you should believe them."

"Well, next time I won't check the weather at all. Now, what shall we do?"

"We wait for the rain to stop. We have a tasty lunch in here and I will write my story. Why don't you watch TV or read one of your magazines?"

"I don't feel like it. Let's eat."

They sat down at the round table, reading the menu.

"Can you find a menu in a language we understand?"

"Sorry, I picked up the one at hand. I didn't know it was in German. Let's see. Ah, there's one in English."

"Great."
"What are you doing?"
"Writing..."
"We are having lunch! Can you let that thing aside for half an hour?"
"And what am I going to do? Talk to you? At the moment I'd rather do anything else but that."
"And you are saying everything just like that..."
"Sorry, there's no other way."
"Ok, then. Have lunch by yourself."
"Where are you going?"
"Away. Maybe I'll come back later for my luggage. If not, take it home."
She put on the jacket, took the umbrella and left. It had been raining heavily since morning, so the pavement looked like a flowing river. "Nice day for a walk. I need some rubber boots." People were looking for a place to hide from the showers falling out from the sky, but she was heading towards the big tower on the left. She remembered a restaurant in that area that she thought she had seen the other day. Unfortunately, there was only a cafe. She opened the door and looked around. There were two empty tables, one by a window and another one next to it.
"Would you like a table, miss?"
"Yes. The one by the window, please."
"How many persons?"
"Just one."
"Ok, here is the menu."
"Thank you. And, please, take the ashtray. I stopped smoking some time ago."
"That's what they all say."
"What's up with you?"
"Nothing... What shall I bring you?"
"A coffee for now. Thank you."
Nothing to eat, except peanuts. She placed her phone on the table and leaned against the back of the chair. No one was passing by. The gallery opposite the cafe was empty. A woman was getting ready to close her gift shop. She looked at her phone. It wasn't ringing. She contemplated calling him, but changed her mind. She covered her face with her hands.
"Would you like some napkins with your coffee? I can bring you a box."
"No, thanks. I'd like you to leave me alone."
"Fine, but I'm sure you can get over anything that is bothering you."
"If I want your input on anything, I'll ask for it."
"You don't have to be so grouchy. It's just rain, it'll stop tomorrow."
"I'm leaving tonight. In fact, I'm leaving right now. Have a nice day."
"Have a..."
She flipped a coin and opened the door. "Heads. I'll go left." A few steps later, her clothes were wet and she couldn't keep her eyes open as the rain was pouring on her face.
"Chris, I've found this at the table by the window."
"It's hers. Shall I go after her?"

sunrise in mallorca

and a thing of beauty

Sensational Carturesti bookstore in Bucharest (RO)

She took a book from the shelf and came back downstairs. In the living room, everyone was watching Jamie Oliver cooking something delicious. At least, that's how it looked from where she was standing. She sat at the kitchen table, lit up a cigarette and opened the book. For five or ten minutes, everything was the same. Then mom entered:

"You're smoking, again. You said you'd quit."

"Oh, mom, don't start again with the theory. I didn't quit. I was just on a very short break."

"But, you know how bad it is for your health."

"I know, mom, all these facts. They are everywhere."

"So?"

"So what? I'm smoking now. That's that."

"Promise me you'll smoke less."

"Oh, mom, don't start again. Ok, I'll try."

Her mom left the kitchen in a hurry to catch the end of Jamie Oliver's show. She remained at the kitchen table with the book opened. She didn't feel like reading. She wanted to do something different that afternoon. Closing her eyes, she started browsing her mind for an activity that could entertain her for a few hours, maybe even get her out of the house that was pressing against her shoulders every minute. Going to the mall, some window shopping popped up.

"Mom, I'm going out. I won't be long."

"Where are you going now?"

"To the mall."

Her mom returned to her show and didn't ask any more questions. She was focused on the cooking and couldn't process other information. She wanted to tell her mom a few things, but gave up quickly when she saw that no one was interested.

A few moments later she went to her room, took a shower and put on some clothes she found lying around. Luckily, they were clean. She grabbed her purse and left. She reached the bus station, thinking of calling someone to join her, but her phone wasn't in the bag. The bus came after five long minutes. She got on and sat on an empty chair by the window...They were moving slowly. The bus stopped at a station, more passengers got on. '4 got on the bus, 2 validated. Validate now!' said the electronic display from behind the driver's seat. Of course, this was inaccurate. More passengers got on. Who knows how many validated!? Not being a life and death matter, she focused again on the outside. More grey blocks of flats.

"Trying to change some things. This could be an objective to consider. Then the question is what things to change. One moment you make a list of four or five or six aspects important to you, the next minute you draw up another list with million other entries. Then you change your mind again. And you continue spinning 90, 180, 360 degrees with the speed of light with no result. Then you give up, you don't decide to begin, you leave everything as is. But nothing is the same, whether you want it or not, the circumstances are changed. You open the blank page and start writing what crosses your mind. Suddenly, a quarter of a page is filled out with nothing in particular, only with words that do not serve any purpose or anyone, just hanging on the white background. They do not even comfort the writer or the reader, whoever he/she is. You never know that. And it is not important. Maybe nobody should read, they do not mean anything to anyone anyway. Just a few lines left for a while there and meant to be erased a while later."

"What the fuck is this? You were supposed to write a paragraph on the war in Afghanistan."

"Shut your mouth! Let me think for a few minutes."

John ran through the park that morning. He was wearing his training suit and his sports shoes. His watch on his wrist, counting the seconds to the end of the race. It was getting harder and harder every time. He would stop more often for deep breaths in the fresh air, he would look at the watch every five minutes. Two more minutes. The end. He sat down on a bench in front of the lake and watched the ducks.

"What am I doing?" articulated John.

"Jogging!?" came an answer from nowhere.

"Oh, sorry. I wasn't asking you."

"Maybe you should see a doctor."

"Thanks for the tip."

The conversation ended with the person giving him a piercing look and John started walking home. It was 8 o'clock. Monday. He wasn't hurrying and he wanted to have a coffee somewhere, away from the terribly white kitchen of his. There was a small bar in his neighbourhood and it was empty and open. Of course, the coffee tasted and almost looked like the boiled water it was made of, but he drank it anyway. Luckily the view to Central Park was filling in the blanks left by the drink. After twenty minutes, he got up and left.

"Hey, stop! You have to pay for the coffee!"

"Oh, sorry. You know it tasted awful. Here you are."

"Still, you can't leave without paying."

"Bye."

He couldn't help thinking of the new week, of work, of every little thing that formed his life. He couldn't help feeling distracted, reviewing in his mind pictures he saw in a travelling agency, documentaries on TV or that book at the bookshop. Nothing was related to what he was actually doing each and every day. "Where was that agency?" Trying to remember the place, his flashbacks indicated a corner of a street and a blue building, he bumped on a border. Suddenly, his face was warm and red. His nose hurt. He was alive. He got up and looked into a window on the right. He called an ambulance and went to the hospital, then home. No work, no jogging, no activity, just rest, the eyes fixed on the only white wall of the living room, inert, for twenty-four hours.

"Sometimes, when I am walking down a street, I usually watch the architecture of the houses or the colour of their facade and I think of our house and how I would like it to be."
"Really, is that what you do? I don't give a damn about it. I just walk on without any interest in anything. Maybe just the destination and the shortest route there."
Their conversation continued as they were waiting for the green light. It was 8 o'clock in the morning and they were both going to work. Suddenly, they saw someone running like a professional athlete on the tram tracks. He was wearing the uniform every man wore to work, black suit and tie. No shoes, though.
"What is he doing?"
"I have no idea. Let's turn on the radio and listen to the news."
"I doubt they'll comment on this. The green light's on. Let's follow him."
"Are you nuts? I'll be late for work the third time this week. I can't afford that."
However, they followed the runner with their eyes, almost crossing the other lane when a horn scratched their ears.
"Pay attention to the road!"
"I was following him. Didn't you say that?"
They took a deep breath and calmed down, but didn't stop watching the runner. Their car was moving slowly on the road, disturbing the traffic. The other cars were passing by, with the drivers half out of the window trying to make themselves heard by the two persons that seemed to be focused on anything else but the road. They went on, after that man, until the next junction. He stopped in the middle of the road and rested for two minutes.
"Hey, are you alright?"
"Yes, I have just quit my job and I have felt like running a little."
"Congratulations. What are you going to do next?"
"I don't know... I really don't."
"Are you sure you're alright?"
"Yes."
"Wow, maybe I should do that too."
"Run in your suit, barefooted?"
"No, not that. Quit my job, not go to work anymore, do something else, never see their faces ever again."
"I'm worried now. Are you alright? You seem like hundreds of miles away from here. Where are you?"
"I can't tell you now. Ask me again during lunch break."