ELENA TORRES
Joe and I met like two warring sides seeking a truce.
For some reason—my self-inflation, mainly, I went there late, and wore a pair of shades as I walked into the restaurant’s chilly atmosphere made cool by the air conditioners as the sun set. I had the feeling seeing him again after that night would bring me close to tears, and oh, how right I was.
It had been close to a month since it happened, but my heart still had not healed, even though it had come to loathe Joe and everything he was to me. Still, it hurt to think that of all the women in the world, it had to be me.
So we sat on opposite sides of the table, and for the first five minutes, there was silence except for when the waiter came around, asking what we wanted. He chose some orange juice and I said I wanted n
