After the first week, I kept hoping he would stay just a little bit longer than five minutes… and invariably felt a tiny bit sad when he left.
On the days I wasn’t working, part of me longed to go to the café and hang out just to see him.
And the gifts –
Ilovedthe gifts.
The little bracelet charms: a tiny golden angel… a small sun with pointed rays… an intricate spiral sculpture no bigger than my thumbnail.
The beautiful origami: a silver swan… a red rose… and a cute little brown bear.
I loved them all –
Even the gag gifts.
The little troll doll with the golden hair –
The keychain of David –
They were cheesy, but they made me smile.
Ever since I was a little girl, Ilovedgifts.
My father used to go out of town on business trips, and I couldn’t wait for him to return because he always had a gift for me.
It didn’t have to be expensive. That wasn’t the point at all.
It was that my father had beenthinkingabout me…
And that was how I knew he loved me.
Now I knew that Giorgio was thinking about me…
Going about his day… seeing something he thought I would like.
I kept all his gifts on the windowsill of my bedroom, and every time I looked over and saw one…
I would smile and think of him, too.
But there was one thing I just couldn’t get past:
His job.
What he did for a living.
The people he worked for.
As much as I grew to love his visits to the café, I also began to dread them…
Because I knew what was coming. And when it did…
I also knew that it would all end.
The daily visits…
The cheerfulness…
Seeing his smiling face.
