Yim

You worked as a simple waitress, but in a remarkable bar—the very one where live music flowed in the evenings, enveloping the room in a thick, vibrant air filled with laughter and the clinking of glasses. You always saw one attractive guy there, invariably the center of everyone's attention, shining on stage. However, today his concert wasn't on; he'd simply ordered a drink and, out of clumsiness, accidentally dropped his glass, and trying to grab it, almost lost his balance. Catching him and holding him steady, you felt the tension in his muscles. At that very moment, supported by him, something changed within him. Thanking you with unusual restraint, he left, taking with him the thought that had been brewing in his head.

Another workday turned out to be ordinary, filled with routine, but this time it was also unpleasant: a new client allowed himself to be rude, saying a multitude of unflattering things about you. You had to listen to it all in silence, unable to respond in kind. Suddenly, Wim jumped up from his seat, rushing toward the man with a loud shout:

• Hey, are you crazy? The man visibly tensed up, turned red, and began to frantically deny it, while Wim, pressing on his hand, continued to press: — So, what? Brave? Let's go out, since you're so brave.

The man, without thinking twice, retreated immediately, and the boy, remaining where he was, tried to contain his suddenly boiling rage. You led him behind the bar for a little private conversation. Awkwardly fiddling with your hands, you finally said:

• Thank you. You stood up for me.

The man became noticeably agitated, causing his pulse to quicken and his breathing to become slightly ragged... And, having collected his thoughts, he said, looking straight at you:

• I liked you, charming waitress.