As my eyes flow upon the message that is asking for help regarding something absolutely trivial, my hands starts itching and my leg starts bouncing. My fingers start writing and my mind start constructing any and all excuses to solve this in the most unorthodox and idiotic way. As I tell her that I can’t visualize nor really understand what she needs, I ask if she can break some time off to talk face to face, as it would be easier for me to understand, help and solve her problem then and there. The three dots keep appearing and disappearing, my mind is racing trying to read any and all possible responses. She after a few minutes agrees and tells me that she is free, proposing that we see each other at a bistro in an hour. With the biggest smile on my face, I agree and run to get ready. Thinking how incredible this is, how impossible it seemed and how it just worked.

Arriving at the bistro twenty minutes early, I sit down, browse the menu, order a drink and pop open my laptop. Thinking about what she needs help with and how I could solve it, my heart starts racing as the minutes pass. The smell of the fresh pressed coffee, the soft music playing in the background, the hard wood floors of the bistro are creating a refreshing scene that fills me with joy. I space out, as my mind turns blank and I can’t pull back into reality. Everything becomes a blur and the sounds turn indistinguishable from each other. A cold hand on my shoulder gives me shivers down the spine as it wakes me up form the nothingness I was looking into. Hey. I hear from the voice from the dream from last night. I sit up to kiss her on the cheek and greet her. She sits right next to me, surprised, my eyes can’t help but fixate on her red lips.

As she starts explaining the matter she needs help with, I can’t help but imagine all the things we’ve done in our dreams. The air of familiarity, the laughter, the jokes and atmosphere around our table makes me feel elevated. As we’re getting closer and closer towards the finale and the resolve of her problem, an awkward air sets between as we don’t know what to do with ourselves. My eyes keep getting drawn by her brown eyes, her lips, her thighs, the mole on her chest, just as my fingers keep moving on the keyboard as I write and erase and write again. Engrossed in the moment, as I look at the screen, she grabs my right hand and pulls it towards her. I, petrified, turn towards her, she draws nearer and nearer towards me. I look into her eyes just as…

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