Chapter Sixteen
Do You Like Gina?The café played a jazz rendition of Lennon’s Imagine. The topic on Feynman and all others that it brought about had ended. Noon, still one hour to go. They both looked through the window at the colorful street; the foliage of green, yellow, red and all colors in between threw shades on the passers-by, parked cars, and a blue USPS box across the street. Who still sends actual mail these days? she thought.
He observed her while she was busy with her inner thoughts, and looking over the window. Beautiful, he thought. Sexy. He liked her short brunette hair, and the way her lips parted when she smiled. He had watched her as she was walking toward the café that morning. She was dressed in a business outfit, ankle-length business pants, a navy blue blazer, and a
