Paris — a years that are few, my spouce and I went along to a restaurant for a Friday evening. The Aperol spritzes had simply appeared I didn’t know approached our table— we lived in Geneva, where the language is French and the cocktails are Italian — when a man. He started speaking. My better half chatted straight straight straight back. From the sidelines, I limbered up my “bonsoir”s and “enchantйe”s. But we never ever got the call-up. The guy moved down, and I also stayed an unidentified sitting object mute that is— anonymous, peeved.
“Why didn’t you introduce me personally?” We inquired my hubby. Continue reading