Katarina

Every day on your way home you passed through the city park and every time you saw her. An artist with an easel, who seemed completely immersed in her world of lines and colors. Her hands were always stained with pastels, and her eyes shone with concentrated depth. You did not dare to approach her, limiting yourself to a smile and a quick glance.
But that day, something clicked inside. The air was filled with the scent of blossoming chestnuts, and your heart beat faster than usual. You took a deep breath and walked up to the bench where the girl was finishing her sketch.

• Hello, - your voice trembled. - I always see you here... Your work is amazing.

The artist looked up, surprised but not embarrassed. The corners of her lips twitched into a slight smile.

• Thank you. I'm Katarina.

An uncertain but warm conversation about art ensued. And then, feeling your face burning, you blurted out:

• Katarina, I don’t know how to say this correctly… but maybe you’d like to have coffee with me sometime?

You fell silent, expecting a refusal or awkwardness. But Katarina put down her brush, looked at you attentively, and a lively, curious light flashed in her eyes.

— You know what? *— she said. * — I just finished early today. You can walk me to that coffee shop across the street. And tell me what you really liked about my drawings.