Verona Conversation

In a small town, beauty is overrated

Here is what happened the other night. I meet him after a long time. Years. But he was there. In a book I read for 5 minutes at Verona landmark, Piaza delle Erbe.

I wonder what to wear. It is after all a date.

We never hug. Or it is always awkward. The hands are either too soon, late or never. So we grin hehehe.

We decide to walk down to the restaurant. It is a new place, as shiny as freshly minted coin.

Sitting opposite each other, we check the other out, after pushing the too cheerful vase of flowers aside.

He leans forward and winds his finger on a messy hair. We are growing gracefully, we both agree.

There is a melancholy jazz player playing. I play with a hairpin. Shall I wear it on my hair? I asked him and he said yes. So I wear it with careful carelessness.

You look beautiful, he tells me.

It was way back in school. He made a dashing Romeo and I made a vulnerable Juliet. His boyish charm and confusion added to the endearing nature of the Romeo in our schoolgirl hearts. 

The ridiculousness of the situation and me as Juliet added to my complete misery.

So I stood there feeling completely idiotic behind a flimsy curtain, on a stool stolen from the school convent and looked dolefully down at Romeo.

You look beautiful, Romeo said in unwritten Shakespeare words.

Only both of us knew it wasn’t at Juliet that they were directed at. It wasn’t even Romeo talking.

We both remember it simultaneously.