Autumn in a Café

That’s when I saw her, out of the corner of my eye, dipping her tuna melt into a fresh glass of orange juice. My first thought, of course, was actually about how weird to soggy up a tuna sandwich with orange juice. But then, I looked down at my plate to see my own half-eaten, tuna sandwich with a pool of orange juice leaking out from underneath. Suddenly, the feeling came across me. She had to be my soulmate.

I had never met anyone else who mixed the two misunderstood flavors together. And so, I made my way over to her table.

“Hello.” I said with a stupid smile plastered on my face.

“No hablo inglés.” She replied coldly.

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