Who are you?

I was sitting at a little round table on the outside part of the restaurant having Pasta during my 30 minutes lunch break. Carlo, the chef from Rome, had made Pasta Puttanesca for me. The ingredients are just per-fect!! Champignons, tomatoes, bacon strips, chicken cubes, napoli sauce, cream sauce, Parmesan cheese, black pepper, olive oil...I mean, it is the most delicious sauce EVER and somehow Carlos hands were magic, because I try to cook the same thing at home and it just doesn’t taste the same. My legs were heavy from my work as a counter-hand. I really enjoyed my job there, but in the end of a long day working and 4 hours course at night I fell into my bed half-unconscious. It was a slow day and few customers were inside the restaurant. I looked at my watch: 11:10. I still had 20 minutes break! Slowly strolling close crookedly a man sat down at the table next to me, carrying a heavy plastic bag. He smiled at me, his face the colour of wet, fertile earth. His eyes seemed to come from another planet, looking at me with a mix of wisdom, resignation and grief. 

Good day.

Good day.

Who are you?

I’m Karen.

He smiled. 

That’s not what I asked. 

Silence.