— The waitress sits down hesitantly on the edge of the sofa. — The restaurant is already closing.
— Because I don’t want to go back home, — I grimace, taking a sip from a bottle of wine. — It’s empty there.
— You look unhappy.
— I’m just tired of living.
— Tired? — she is truly surprised. — But there’s so much interesting around.
— I’ve already seen half of it. Didn’t impress me.
— Have you ever thought about a family, about children?
— I’m not a family person. I tried once. That’s enough—damn it.
— Has someone broken your heart? — she asks sympathetically, and I’m almost tempted to give in.
— Are you a psychologist?
— Excuse me, I’m intruding where I shouldn’t. — She quickly stands up. — I’ll go.
— Wait. How should I— Emmа? Come to my place? We’ll just drink some wine, watch TV. I won’t touch you—honestly.
— You’re too good at persuading, so I won’t risk it. — She smiles naively, dreamily. — I’m the kind of person who believes in love at first sight and wants to get married.
— And sex—only after the wedding? — I smirk.
— Yes. Ideally—like that.