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mijn croissant schiet bijna achterin mijn keel als ik over de rand van het financieel dagblad heen, de wonderschone vrouw het restaurant zie binnen lopen. die heb ik hier nog nooit gezien. ik eet hier eigenlijk elke morgen, in het hotel bij mijn appartement om de hoek. ik ken de eigenaar goed en heb met hem afgesproken dat ik hier tegen een kleine vergoeding mag ontbijten. voorwaarde is dat ik met een zakenlunch of diner ook naar dit restaurant kom. daarbij is er niks lekkerder dan aan een gedekte ontbijttafel aan te schuiven, je krant te krijgen en verse koffie naar binnen te kunnen gooien zonder dat je hem eerst moet zetten. ik ken ondertussen veel mensen, personeel maar ook vaste klanten. maar deze dame is zeker geen vaste klant. zoiets zou verboden moeten worden in de vroege morgen, denk ik. hoe kan ik straks nou zonder geile gedachten het kantoor in lopen. wat een benen, en wat een bortsen.... wat een koppie! dan realiseer ik me dat ik al wel heel lang over de krant gluur en snel duik ik er weer wat achter, maar niet zonder elke paar seconden even te gluren naar de gracieuze bewegingen van deze stoot. koffie, jus dórange, een broodje met jam... ze loopt stellig naar een tafeltje een meter of 10 bij me vandaan. ondertussen kijkt ze het restaurant rond. dan, als onze blikken zich kruisen, voel ik een stroomstoot door mijn lijf gaan. ik ben geobsedeerd door haar. wat doet ze hier, wie is het, heeft ze een vriend, is ze toeriste? haar mooie kijkers lijken dwars door me heen te kijken. ik proibeer weg te kijken maar onze blikken blijven net iets langer dan normaal, dan gemakkelijk is, op elkaar gericht. ik doe de krant weer omhoog

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