The ideal night
We meet at the bar of a cosy little restaurant. I am wearing one of those slinky dresses, dark green to accentuate my eyes. You’re already waiting, leaning against the bar. There’s a little wait until our table will be ready. We order a glass of champagne and you offer to take my coat. As you take it off my shoulders, the door to the kitchen opens at the same time as some other guests enter the premises and a breeze of cold evening air makes me shiver. You look down and realise that I...