First afternoon free in a million! And alone! It proves me right (well, I guess... it's been so long.) I'd better be leaving. Or, wait... I'll finish my beer and another fag and go... Look at that!
She gazes a young man sitting opposite to her. He's scribbling something on a paper while he talks on the cell. He's writing with one hand, holding his drink with the other, phone on shoulder. He's running out of space in the paper.
Perdita stands up and then goes down to her knees. She crawls to the table and hands him a bar napkin. Out of the blue. The guy is not surprised, he's so absent-minded that takes it and keeps on writing.
Ow! I think I am transparent! How did it happen? Doctor. Tomorrow. First thing in the morning.
