The Man at the Door

“Yeah Iz, It’s true,” I said, half believing it myself.

“So, are you still going to get together?”

“Izzy, I just found all this stuff out. Its a little hard to comprehend all at once.”

“Menina,” Izzy said sternly, “You can’t possibly date a blind man. It’s just unreal. What the foda are you two going to do together? And a wife? He’s damaged goods, meu amor.”

“Izzy, really…” I pleaded, sinking down into her sofa, and stealing a ciggarette and match from the table.

“Oh no no no, menina. You can’t be…” She hissed, pacing across the floor.

“Be what, Izzy? In love?”

“Yes, that!”

“No, I mean, we don’t know each other very well, and therefore, I have to be reasonable. I’ve just started this thing out all wrong.” There was a knock on the door, Izzy scampered hastily to the door.


“Isabella, il mio amore,” a man’s voice chimed through the door.

“Pablo…” she purred. Isabella looked from me to the door and back with a pleading look.

“I’ll go, I’ll go…” I offered.

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