I turned and saw her. She was a tall, not very thin,
young woman, with light-brown eyes, with a look like sun's sparklings on the
wave. Her hair, short, between brown and red. She was beautiful, although
she didn't seem anxious at all to be agreeable. Her voice was deep, sounding
like a viola da gamba. She wore a cream-colored jacket over a copper-like,
you'd say, blouse, a cream-colored pair of trousers and - of course - boots.
- "I don't see you
being very faithful", I
said.
- "There is something else, even worse", she
replied. "I'm watching you for a long time".
- "That flatters me", I said wanting to show
appreciation.
- "I don't see why", she smiled, "I'm
doing my job".
I tried to be spiteful:
- "You write a dissertation on men's
behavior with shellfish?"
- "He asked me to keep my eyes on you, my
boss", she kept on smiling, "who waits for you when you finish
your sea-side meditation. ... He is the owner of that second-hand store,
near the guest house".
- "O!, thanks", I said obviously
disappointed, "I'm not interested".
- "We don't fish clients that way; only
antiques", she teased at me. "Come with me", he felt the need to
become serious, "he has something to give you that I hope belongs to
you".
