Her deep dark blue eyes glanced at me for a moment, and then her satin-smooth pink lips curled up into a small, polite smile. Her silhouette was thin, almost fragile, delicate as a porcelain doll, and a thin silver chain surrounded her small neck. Her dressing consisted of a simple, formerly white tank top, a pair of worn black denim shorts, along with a duo of filthy running shoes. The young woman�s blond curls were tied up in a ponytail, some stray locks of golden hair falling gently to her peach cheeks. She turned her head away, graciously leaning her slight body towards the little boy standing next to her. I estimated him to be around 6 years old and realized I have not ever noticed him before. Was it perhaps because of his small size, or was it because he seemed exceptionally silent for his young age? Nevertheless, the child stared at the woman, his emerald eyes piercing through his tuft of chestnut hair, with a huge grin painted on his lips. A large violet bruise tinted his little cheek. He was dressed in an outsized Mickey Mouse tee shirt which fell to his knees, along with a pair of navy trousers. The kid held firmly a stuffed Barney against his chest, and peeked in my direction while listening to the young woman�s voice murmuring softly to him. The shattered words barely reached my ears, yet I could distinguish the meaning of those words she spoken with her soft voice. The child slipped his little hand in the woman�s one, holding her tightly as if he was frightened to loose her . Afterwards, together, they marched towards the entrance of the park, passing in the vicinity of my bench. The woman�s honey fragrance drifted to my nostrils as I rotated my head to have a last vision of her. She spun around and waved, looking at me with her sparkling wide blue eyes. She continued her way with the youngster, while I simply sat there, my vision still lost in her dim ocean.
�Excuse me, sir? Sir? What would it be?� The waitress smiled courteously, and then tilted her head on the side, some locks of sun coloured hair caressing her pale cheeks, waiting for a response. She was holding a notebook in her frail hand and a pencil in the other, while looking at me with her broad dark blue eyes, ready to note my choice. I gawped at her, forgetting instantaneously what exactly were my intentions about my supper. �What�s your name?� I answered, blushing, with a timid smile on my lips.