"So, Francis, do you have your eyes on someone?" Antonio asked looking at him with a glimpse of amusement in his emerald eyes.
He sighed. Indeed, he had his eyes on many women, but there was someone...
She would come to the restaurant every morning. She always sat outside at the same table for two in the right corner. Her order was always the same - a cup of hot chocolate and a croissant. Every morning she would bring along a book – in fact, the books were the only thing that changed. Every few days she would bring a new one. Everything else stayed the same. She would walk in around eight o'clock, sit at her table and open a book. Then he would walk out to take her order. It wasn't his job, really. He was the chef, not a waiter, but he did it anyway. He already knew what she was going to order, but he still came to ask every single day. On bad days she wouldn't even raise her eyes from the page she was on, she would just say 'the usual'. On good days s