Carlomaria Grassi ||| A Reservation With My Name On It — Medium

.... There is a beautiful girl going down into the subway entrance that
I am exiting out of. I look above me to make sure that Musette is not looking
down on me before looking more at the girl. I even go above and watch the girl
some more once I am out. She’s slowly descending out of necessity for continued
cell service. She has a look of concentrated distress. Musette is nowhere to be
seen. Once the girl finishes her call and enters the underground I go to the
round benches and sit down. She must still be working, I think, waiting there,
continuing my forced stream of literature for twenty minutes before a girl
named Katharine approaches asking me if I’m going to dinner with them. I tell
her that I am. She asks me if Musette told me to wait out here and I tell her
that she did. She looks nice, being dressed well with little stones dangling
from her earlobes.

I’ll go check inside, she tells
me.

A few minutes later, Musette comes
around the corner telling me that she has been trying to call me.

I even stuck my head around but
didn’t see you, she says.

You should have texted me, I
tell her. You know that my phone doesn’t work very well.

She starts picking the lint off
my coat and grimacing at my yellowing teeth.

We really need to get some
whitening toothpaste... 

Common, is Sunday. Relax and just  read it:  A Reservation With My Name On It — Medium