The dog barked. Incessantly. His barks grated on my overwrought nerves. He was a scruffy little dog with shaggy hair falling all over his face and into his eyes. Brown and white. I was trying to tell the girl something but his barks kept distracting me.
She leaned closer too, in the long winding cobblestone street, to make out what I was saying. I could picture us mentally as we stood together. Someone would have liked to click a picture of us- exactly like that- her loose black hair falling forward to make her tiny white ear visible, and my curly hair masking my face, both of us in rectangular black coats and regular walking shoes.
I was telling her that I wanted to own that street. In all its rain-splattered gravelly glory. I could set up a small tea-stall at the edge- very basic- with sticks gored into the ground to hold up a red cloth canopy-roof. And little tumblers made of glass to serve the sweet tea in. I’d keep a small stove and a large bucket of water. The water would boil all day long, because everyone would want to savor my tea. And she could hand the tea to my numerous customers with a ready smile- her teeth making a perfect semi circle as her eyes danced a girly dance.
When she heard this dream of mine she laughed suddenly, but softly. Her stomach heaved and her eyes danced the girly dance.
“Okay” she said, “okay, we’ll do it. But don’t you take off that overcoat; you look so sexy in it.”
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