Two under an umbrella: a story of a casual acquaintance

😉 Greetings to life story lovers! Today for you is the story of a casual acquaintance “Two under an umbrella”. The fact that not always an ideal appearance is a companion of a kind soul.

Do not make yourself an idol

For two months in a row, I wake up with a smile on my face, apply makeup more thoroughly and run out of the house half an hour earlier than required. Now my every morning is wonderful: he is waiting for me!

I know his habits and tastes, I have learned every feature of his face. I know that he loves black coffee without sugar, prefers to wear suits in cold shades, and not a single hair is knocked out of his hair. He’s perfect! The only thing I still don’t know about him is his name …

Every morning I push the heavy glass door of the coffee shop where I work as a barista. At this moment, my heart squeezes painfully: what if he won’t be here today? But here he is – sitting, as usual, at his table, looking through the newspapers.

“You’re crazy, exactly,” Katya summarizes, pursing her lips skeptically. – He may be, for example, a maniac.

Something, but Katya’s imagination can sometimes easily compete with my romantic naivete.

– And this one, by the way, – leaning closer to me, Katya immediately whispered in an enthusiastic whisper, – he works as a cool designer, I even saw his pictures in a magazine!

I absentmindedly turned half-turned to meet the eyes of the guy sitting by the window. Slightly disheveled hair, open eyes, light unshaven. “Rubbish” immediately averted his eyes, embarrassed, as if caught on a hot one. Was he watching me?

Rainy morning

Going into the cafe the next day, out of habit, I mentally greeted Mr. Perfect. She involuntarily glanced to the table by the window – a guy with disheveled hair was sitting in his place.

Then someone called Mr. Perfect and he, without finishing his coffee, hurried to the exit. For a moment, the sound of rain burst into the cozy silence of the cafe, and immediately, cleaning the table, Katya shouted after her, holding out her smartphone in her hand:

– You forgot!

But the “mister” could no longer hear her, and through the window one could see him crossing the road with his jacket collar up.

– Let me give it back, – I suddenly suggested and, snatching the smartphone from her hands, ran out into the street. I was instantly poured into an icy shower, but I did not notice it, ran to the black jeep and knocked on the tinted window.

– What do you want? – he grunted, half lowering the glass.

And from this “what” and “you” I suddenly felt much colder and disgusting than from the streams flowing behind the collar.

– Here … you forgot.

He silently took the cell phone from my hands and, hitting the gases, left the parking lot, splashing water from a puddle on me. I stayed by the side of the road, dumbfounded, staring at my light beige skirt in a spray of mud. Suddenly, with a characteristic pop over my head, an umbrella opened. I turned around: in front of me, smiling, stood a guy with tousled hair.

“You’re completely wet,” he said, and smiled shyly.

I looked at him: yes, he is probably not Mr. Perfect. But, as I already understood, an ideal appearance is not always a companion of a beautiful soul …

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