I met someone at a bar today. She was tall, slim, with long dark hair. She interrupted me as I was reading a book at a table near the front window, and said that I looked lonely. We chatted for a while. I asked her where she lived, and she told me that it was not far away. I asked her if I could see her apartment, as the only living quarters I had seen so far were my hotel room and the insides of Renaissance palaces. She smiled and said, Sure, why not?
We left the bar and walked just two streets to a building with a big arched wooden door and a smaller door for residents to come and go through. We went up a winding staircase with stone steps to the third floor. I noticed three things after we went in. The first was the view from her windows across the rooftops to Lake Lucerne. The second was that, as I turned back to look at her, she was already lifting off her sweater over her head. The third thing was a framed poster of a swan, hanging over the bed.
“I have to leave,” I said.
“What?” she said. “Are you serious?”
“Yes,” I said, blushing and walking back towards the door. “I’m sorry.”
As I closed the door behind me, I heard her say: “You asshole.”
The funny thing is, when she said that, my parting thought was: Wow, your English is really good.