It’s a gorgeous autumn morning along the Ljubljanica River in Slovenia’s capitol.
Dried orange and brown leaves rustle along the cobblestones under a mild breeze.
The gentleman with dark brown skin, standing in the doorway, has presence, dressed fully in black, with a black belt, black watchband, and even black rims on his glasses, but his hair and goatee are white from age.
He invites me to take a table on the patio across the pedestrian path and brings me a toasted ham and cheese sandwich and a cold beer.
I look around at the other tables and see that the customers are locals, not eating, but drinking coffee or beer.
Pedestrians pass by in a steady stream, many carrying bags of fruit and vegetables from the nearby green market.
Soon some tourists arrive and grab a couple of tables, a pretty woman sitting alone and a family of five.
The father and three boys are dressed like me, with long-sleeved sweaters and a warm vest.
When the sun pulls out from behind a cloud and the patio heats up, like synchronized swimmers, we all remove our warm vests and set them over the arm of a chair.
It turns out the pretty woman is not alone and has now been joined by her man.
They are in an animated conversation in French.
The couple is soon joined by a third person, another pretty woman who seems to take an interest in me, looking over at me several times and smiling.
Finally, she stands and walks toward me, causing my heart to flutter.
She stands over me, smiles beautifully, and says, “Are you using this?”
I look at where she’s pointing and tell her, “No, please help yourself.”
Then the pretty woman with the bewitching smile, who I thought by some miracle was flirting with me, walks away with the ashtray from my table.
