The Imaginary Life

MMonreal And FFortuna

If not now, then when?

I no longer only write on Sundays but rather whenever the mood strikes. Take today, for example.

I got up much like any other morning, and like any other morning, I opened my bedroom window, paying no attention to what was going on in the outside world. No doubt nothing was going on, but even if it were, I wouldn't have noticed because I look without seeing.

I had breakfast, took a shower, got dressed, and drove to work, thinking that one of these days I'd take the plunge and go on the subway. I drove up the Castellana listening to music without a care in the world—since the radio started to broadcast only bad news, I no longer feel guilty about turning up at work without a clue about current affairs. If you run into someone and they're in the know, all you have to say is, "They're making a mess of it," and, even though you're making it up, you know you've hit the nail on the head.

"A mess!" said my coworker when we grabbed a coffee at the bar on the corner.

It crossed my mind that maybe he listens to music on his way to work too.

We went up to the office and we each made way to our desks. I pulled up my chair, switched on the computer, and while it fired up, I checked the things on my to-do list. All of sudden, ping—a window popped up.

"You have mail."

I hit open.

From: mmonreal@gmail.com

Hey, we met at the agency dinner, the one we both thought was a drag. I thought that you might like to join me for a coffee someday. If you don't feel like it, no worries, just say so and that'll be the end of that. I think we might get along.

-Mauro

P.S. I hope your flowers got home OK.

Whoa! A message from Mauro. How about I join him for a coffee. If I don't feel like it, no worries, I just say so and that's the end of that. He thinks we might get along.

Let's see what I can come up with.

From: ffortuna@gmail.com

Hi. How did you get hold of my e-mail?

Nata.

P.S. Nice surname.

I hit send.

A minute goes by.

"You have mail."

From: mmonreal@gmail.com

You can get anything if you put your mind to it in this life. Or almost anything.

P.S. Nice name.

Nice name, he says. You can tell he wants to come across well too.

I reply.

From: ffortuna@gmail.com

Thanks for the compliment.

He replies.

From: mmonreal@gmail.com

Let me know if you feel like that coffee.

So it turns out that today isn't just any old day. Mauro has sent me an e-mail.

Three e-mails. He reckons you can get anything if you set your mind to it. He wants to know if my flowers got home OK. To let him know if I feel like getting that coffee.

Where did he get my e-mail address? Who did he ask? Who cares! What matters is that he sent me an e-mail. Me, who he doesn't know from Adam. Because as far as I know, when I talk to him in the mornings, I'm talking to the mirror ... What if he's inside the mirror? Then he'll have seen how I change my outfit twenty times and to see if my panty lines are showing every day. The horror!

Sometimes I think I'm losing it!

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Hey guys I feel so bad for writing such a short chapter. Things are moving fast between Mauro and Nata and I want to see where this goes!

Anyways please vote and leave your options in the comments.

Until tomorrow....

Ciao.