Some hours later:
I went to the kitchen where Bruce was doing the washing-up.
He turned around.
“Hey.”
“Hey...”
“How do you feel?” He stepped in front of me.
“I'm okay”, I answered.
“You're sure?” Bruce looked at me closely. I smiled because of his concern.
“I'm fine, really.” He smiled, too.
“I wanna go out”, I suddenly said and sat down at the bar. Bruce seemed to be a little confused.
“Huh?”
“Let's go out tonight. I'm back, don't we have to celebrate that?” He had to laugh because of my statement.
“Now that's a reason!” He put away the last plate. “So where do you wanna go?” Bruce put the dish towel on his shoulder and looked at me.
“I don't know.” He laughed again.
“Okay, then... let me decide spontaneous.”
“Okay.” I put my face in the hands and looked at him with a smile.
In the evening he showed me a little club in a small side street.
There was a comfortable couch in one corner where we sat down. The waiter knew him and greeted him by name.
“What do you want?”, she asked.
“Well... We have to celebrate her return, so...” Bruce looked at me.
“...I'll take a cocktail for the start”, I said, smiling.
The evening got longer and longer and soon you could say it was night. And as the night got longer, more and more alcohol went through our throats.
I was happy; happy being back in London, happy being back home.
I watched Bruce and he was smiling. He was happy. Happy like me.
He caught my glance and our eyes locked but this time he didn't look away.
