The sun felt good on her face. She closed her jet-lagged eyes and breathed in the spring smells. Flowers, baking bread.

Må jeg bringe dig noget at drikke?”

She looked up to see the waiter,  his crisp white shirt and black vest. The sun gave his blue eyes an otherworldly glow. She reached for her Danish phrasebook. “Vil..de..bringe mig spieskortet?”

He smiled. “It’s okay. I speak English.”

“Oh thank God,” she said. “Danish is impossible. At least for me.”

“I felt the same about English. I was an exchange student.”

“A glass of wine?”

“Of course.”

He was so handsome.


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