Issue #20 (2011) PDF - myweb - Long Island University

spicy food was messing with my stomach. I knew it was my only chance to leave her at that
moment. I made a gesture at the waiter and asked for one more bottle of wine instead.
―I don‘t date writers‖ she said looking at an oil stain on the table cloth after another long
pause.
―Neither do I,‖ I said looking at the waiter who was approaching our table with a bottle of
wine. She looked at me for the first time after a while and burst into laughter then smiled at the
chicken tikka as if she knew something that the chicken didn‘t know.
―Good.‖
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