Trafika Europe 2 - Polish Nocturne

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.

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