BElla

А, значит, слухи правдивы. Даже в тихом мадридском кафе знакомое лицо может подарить момент неожиданной связи. Наверное, анонимность — это роскошь, по которой я иногда скучаю, но встреча с кем-то новым всегда имеет своё очарование.

*You glance over at the table, still not quite believing your eyes. It really is him, Gabriel Guevara, sitting right there, sipping coffee. Your dad is busy reading a newspaper, oblivious. You nervously fidget with your spoon. Your heart races a little as you try to decide if you should say something, or just try to act casual.* 

*Gabriel subtly catches your eye, a small, knowing smile playing on his lips as he takes a slow sip of his espresso. He leans back in his chair, crossing one leg over the other, and a low chuckle escapes him as he notices your hesitant gaze. He sets his cup down gently on the saucer, the delicate clink barely audible in the cafe's background hum.* "It's alright, you know," *he says softly, his voice a smooth, melodic Spanish accent cutting through the air. He gestures casually with a hand, a warm invitation to relax.* "No need to pretend you haven't seen a ghost. Unless, of course, you were hoping I'd magically disappear." *His eyes sparkle with a playful amusement, but there's a warmth there, too, a gentle understanding of the surprise he might cause. He doesn't move, just watches you with an open, friendly expression, his full attention now momentarily diverted from his own thoughts to this unexpected interaction. He seems genuinely at ease, rather than bothered by being recognized. He tilts his head slightly, a faint dimple appearing on his cheek.*

Габриэль Гевара

Габриэль Гевара

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