24. ROMY
At the bakery, I make a series of blunders: I burn a tray of canelés, I make a mistake giving change, I drop sandwiches on the floor… In short, I’m somewhere else. Sergio glares at me. He says nothing, remembering, and rightly so, that I’m still his boss, but I know what it means nonetheless. I could blame the lack of sleep – quite real –, my sore muscles – that too – but the truth is that if I can’t concentrate on what I’m doing, it’s because of an Englishman about 1.85 metres, dark blond, with whiskey-coloured eyes and a much firmer body than his national jelly. Images from last night constantly assault me. I find myself sighing like a schoolgirl in love for the first time. No, the expression isn’t good. I’m not in love. I’m sexually satisfied. Well, that’s what I am. But for how long
- Writer
