On the Pretentiousness of Travelers #8


Do you think he’ll notice if I snap this picture?  It’s an atmospheric shot of this cafe, you know.  It’s not that he is one of the most handsome men I’ve ever seen.  Although, you know, he is.

If I had an Eat, Pray, Love life, he would smile and say hello.  He would ask how long I’ve been in Cuba.  He would laugh at my Spanish and say it endeared me to him.  He would brush the bangs away from my face and stare at me in that way, you know, that way. He would repeat my name when I introduced myself and it would sound beautiful on his lips.  He would smell like bourbon vanilla.

We would have too much to say to one another over just one espresso.  We would spend the whole week together and he’d show me the real Havana.  We would walk down the narrow streets and lean into one another.  He’d kiss me and I would finally understand what living in the present means.

And you know, then he’d ask me to move here and I’d write a book about our love and I would make a million dollars.  Elizabeth Gilbert would call to congratulate me and we’d be best friends.

Okay, I snapped the picture and I see that he’s glaring at me.  That’s not good.

I am going to back away now.  I am going to slowly back away before anyone yells like last time.  I am not going to trip and fall and rip my skirt.  Because then, you know,  I’d have to walk all the way to the hotel with my underwear showing.  What’s the chance of that happening twice?

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