Trafika Europe 2 - Polish Nocturne
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22

but she served us first. She’d never gotten the order wrong

before. She knew virtually to the second who had arrived

first, who had sat where. The opposite happened too. We’d

be calling, over here, Miss Basia, or Basieńka, we were here

before them. She’d give us a distracted glance and serve the

guys who’d come after us. Or she’d bring the main course

to a table where they hadn’t had their soup yet, while there

were other men waiting for their main course at a table that

was even closer to her.

It’s possible to fall in love at first sight, but to that extent? It

was enough to see what happened when he showed up in

the cafeteria. If she was carrying bowls or plates to some

table, the tray would shake in her hands, the plates would

clink, then when she served them it was like she wanted to

chuck them all down at once. And right away she’d run to

the hatch for his soup. He’d still be eating the soup and

already she’d be bringing him his main course. While us,

when we finished our soup we always had to wait for the

main course till she was done serving everyone their soup.

Sometimes we’d even tap our forks against our bowls

because we’d been waiting too long for the main course.

Him, he never had to wait.

You should have seen her when he didn’t show up at the

usual time. You’d have thought it wasn’t her that was

serving the meals, her hands were doing the job all alone.

As for her, she didn’t even see what her hands were

carrying. She was just one big tormented waiting mass.