Trafika Europe 2 - Polish Nocturne
He held crayons in his tiny hands. “Grandma, I’ve got this big problem.” He stood by the table anxiously.
“In kindergarten, there is this girl I like. I don’t tell her, I just look at her.”
He spilled the crayons onto the table and supported his head on his palms, as if it weighed too much.
“I would like to draw something for her or sing a song for her. I would like to give her flowers, like Grandpa gives to you. I would like to kiss her. I’ll show you how.”
He came up to her, brushed her hair off her cheek.
“Like this,” he kissed her.
He was looking at her face for a moment and then took her cheeks between his palms.
“Or straight on the lips, like Grandpa kisses you. Like this,” he kissed her.
She covered her astonishment with a smile. “If I may give you any advice,” she tried sounding resolute “it is not to overdo it. There is no need to hurry. Just start with the
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