#280 The Globetrotter

by Prashant Dhanke

I am going to lose again. About 200 Euros tonight. We’ve already had four drinks each.

She is almost there. Nothing like moist eyes to make a woman look beautiful.

I bite my tongue. I clench my fists hard. It hurts, but still no tears.

Her lips quiver. Her tears will ruin her makeup.

The first one to tear up wins. Loser picks up the tab for the drinks. Thankfully, no one but the barman is around to watch this stupid game.

I think of sad things. My mother in coffin. My dog being put to euthanasia. My amputation. My eyes stay dry.

She smiles. Her tears are wetting her cheeks. I stretch my hand and catch a drop.

“Please pass me a tissue.” Her bare shoulders have goosebumps.

“You are good. When was the last time you cried?” I want to rub her warm.

She puts away the wet tissue. I keep searching her face. She looks away.

“I should be going now.”

“Tell me what made you cry.”

“It’s easy. Just try not to blink.” She turns to leave.

“What’s your name?” I yell while she is still at the door.

“Linda.” She’s gone.

Back in the hotel room, I flatten the crumpled tissue paper. Right below the mascara mark, I write:

Paris (Linda).

Tomorrow I fly to London.

1 comment:

Anita said...

So he collects tears from each city !
wow..Very original twist.