Ana & Pedro

I met Pedro at a bar. He was, according to what he tells me later, on his fourth Manhattan; I was on my second Apple Martini. He was telling the cute brunette sitting next to him something about procreation and velvet dreams, she obviously thought it was a line. I believe it was, but he will never admit it. She left, and as she passed me at incredible speed, he caught me smiling and he said, 'funny huh? they all leave at some point, better at the beginning'.

I wasn't quite sure if this was a handsome manic-depressive, drowning his sorrows at a local bar, or a bright and charming possible suitor. I was bored, slightly curious and I felt like I had nothing to lose.

I ordered a third Martini and he said it was on him. He ordered another one for himself too. We chatted. As much as it is possible at a bar, where an old jukebox is playing old tunes and where desperate people are aimlessly looking to connect with someone, anyone, somehow.

He told me about his love for everything green: Broccoli, money, his olive green Porsche and the tree outside his childhood home. I told him about my future plans, of conquering the world and taking no prisoners. We laughed, we joked, we made love.

The next morning, in his bed, he told me we were soul mates. He said it was simply meant to be. I turned around to look at his light chocolate eyes and I kissed him deeply, a kiss that has lasted 11 years, the true kiss of love.

- The story of Ana, as seen through my eyes.

The people on this picture are nobody I know, I have decided to call them Pedro and Ana.
This picture was stolen from somewhere in cyberspace.

*Currently listening to Nada Personal by Soda Stereo*