Stardust

Dave Brubeck’s stardust was always playing in my head, like when I first saw her. She was wearing a deep green silk dress and considerable confidence. Every other movement paused; for a moment, I felt that even the lighting was following her. She came to the bar. It felt like she was walking for a long time. I didn’t remember to place the words together to create a question.

- ‘‘I would have a Negroni,’’ she said

- ‘‘I am the one who is going to make it,’’ I said

 I turned to grab the vermouth and looked at her reflection in the vintage mirror at the back bar. It was only then that I could look into her eyes without being afraid of what I was going to discover. I saw her hidden smile turning around. She’s enjoyed every second of my uncomfortable moments; we both looked at the crystal mixing glass when I was stirring. She touched her minimal gold necklace with her classy fingers once I released the rich citrus perfume on the surface of the cocktail.

- “Enjoy,” I said, and then she took a small black lighter out of her tiny feather bag,

- “Roll me one of your cigarettes and meet me outside, " she said, and she started walking again, uninterested in life around her and being so much of herself.