Through the looking glass

I stood salivating looking through the clear glass, there were so many colours so many to choose from and he had said ‘just one’.

“Just one?  Just one?”  I looked at him with the sweetest smile I could rustle up, hoping he would say ‘oh go on then, choose two.’  But no when he had said ‘just one’ that’s exactly what he meant.  Ok so I shall let him choose first because I knew full well that once we had both chosen I would look at his and wish I’d chosen the same.

“You first, what one are you going for?”  I looked up at him expectantly and he sighed, he had already decided.  He knew full well from the minute he had seen it exactly which one he was going for.

“I asked you first!”  He was playing that game, he had the exactly same thought as me and he knew I was wanting him to choose first.  What if I chose the blue one then seeing him enjoy a red one more and I wanted to change my mind, it would be too late!

“I can’t decide, there’s too many to choose from!”  I exclaimed, eyes rolling from left to right looking at all the different colours.

Pink was obviously raspberry, blue was blueberry and brown was, as you can imagine coco.  My eyes kept going to the green one, not because of the colour because in a heartbeat prettiest would have been the pink one but I’d had raspberries for breakfast and knew that the green one would be pistachio.

“Ok ok, the green one!”  I clapped my hands together like I was five years old, but I was a thirty something (old, ok?) and he laughed at my excitement.

“I can’t believe the sweet tooth that I am, and the cake lover that you are that we’ve not tried these yet.”  He said handing over 12 euros to the Italian in a smart trousers shirt and tie covered by a cream apron with la rinacente written on in brown, I watched patiently as they picked out the green and brown macaroons and placed them delicately into a small clear bag so I could still watch it before I devoured it later.

Moments later we sat facing the Duomo, blazing in the sun watching local musicians playing reggae music with children dancing, watching all the tourists taking pictures of the Duomo turning away from the sun to inspect the photos before changing settings on their cameras, iPhones and iPads.  We leaned up against each other in the heat, his arm and shoulder felt like a radiator but all I cared about right now was that small sweet macaroon……

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