I wake up hangovered and happy. I still have a taste of Hans B. kiss in my mouth (just one kiss, he begged before we left the restaurant – and the endless promises to call).

I feel wicked and wile. Barcelona is crunching under my feet as I walk to the Metro, our office is somewhere near Sagrada Familia, in a nice bystreet with lovely little balconies. I adore balconies. I wish I had an apartment with a nice balcony (or even two) where I would sit with my friends all day and drink wine and chat. And I know that it will never happen. Because I am not a sitting-with friends-and-chatting-all-day-type person. Just another identity that I could never fulfill.

Dirk used to work before in our Headquarters, now due to the lucky turn of business and private events (his wife is Catalan) he is here, in the Barcelona Office. It is still fresh and smells of paint and his face is lit from the blessing of a successful removal. I envy him.

So when do you think your office will be fully operational? Isn’t that ironic that the crisis of the last year had contributed to the development of X (our) industry? Do you like Catalan food? What is the local speciality you like most?

The interview goes smooth, it is the usual nonsense that does not have any importance to the rest of universe and none apart from some employees would read it, but sun is shining and Dirk is nice and talkative. At the end he introduces me to his assistant. I know, why he is doing so.  She is my age, also from HQ and he thinks that he is doing a favour to me, that we have something in common, but apparently we have not. As we go for a coffee I find out that she is the cheerleader type, it is the type of girls that is top one in my Most Hated People list. However, I am in such a good mood that I silently wish her and all the other living creatures in the world good luck and a long prosperous life.



About isabelle

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