American Girls
I got on the Metro with the intention to go home from the opera house but I got off at a stop midway. My feet seem to be calibrated in such a way that I can’t turn corners or, horror of horrors, turn around. I walked a straight line away from the Metro station, and just walked and walked. I stopped at a random, nondescript restaurant, having already passed a few that looked good, mainly because I noticed three American girls sitting outside. (It’s the law in Madrid that you sit outside a restaurant or cafe. The only place you sit inside is McDonald’s.) It was only as I was settling in at a nearby table that I realized I decided on that particular restaurant because I wanted the comfort of familiar sounds for awhile. The girls left as I took my first bites of fried calamari. Sad.
