13
“Are you sure you wouldn’t like anything?” asked the barman, squinting suspiciously. “More cola perhaps?”
“Yes, please.”
“Lots of ice?”
“Lots of ice.”
“With lemon, but no straw?”
“Exactly!” For a half-second I was surprised that Eric the bartender knew how I liked my cola, when I saw in front of me a glass with the remains of cola, ice and a circle of lemon. I must’ve already ordered it like that. I just couldn’t remember.
Eric worked quiet skillfully. There weren’t that many tables, but a young stocky waitress constantly approached him with orders. He did everything swiftly, yet his hands moved smoothly and somehow separately from his calm face. He clearly enjoyed conversation. And he spoke with a southern tenderness and insinuation.
“By the way, please excuse me, but you are n
