Writer In Florence Ela Vasilescu

Day 42 – The girl made of glass ( literary vomit – part III)


This story began on Day 28 and continued on Day 35. It’s starting to take shape and I think it needs time to grow and conquer. So here is the third part of the story.

“ – I don’t, actually. I was trying to be polite; now that we’ve settled that, thanks for the light. Bye!” , I said, turning quickly away from her.

I was hoping for her to take the bite; and she did. I caught a glimpse of her looking towards me, intrigued by my answer and leaning a little forward to stop me.

“ – Wait… I… I am just a little tired tonight. I am sorry; yes I am fine or as fine as a half-naked woman, having a smoke outside a strip club can be.”

I saw her mouth intending to give me a little smile but it just gave up half way through the process. I didn’t notice her clothes from across the street. She wore a black, transparent top and a small multicolored bikini with gold heels. I remember thinking, that strippers must have a horrible sense of fashion; I found out later that they are not the ones deciding their style and stage clothes. My eyes were focusing on the straps of her heels, when I realized the sounds that were interrupting my fashion reverie, were words coming from her mouth.

“ – Are you from around here?”

–       No, I am just passing by. I am waiting to pick up a friend who lives in the building from across the street.

–       Is he single?

–       Yes, he just got out of a relationship.

–       I never understood that saying. How can you get out? I mean is it that you walk into it, stay a little and then just close the door behind you? Anyway, your friend is definitely one of my regulars. His whole building is.”

She burst into laughter and it must have been contagious, because I found myself releasing a happy feeling out into the world and tightening the corners of my mouth. If only I could have not speak.

“ – You can be right, but he is not one of those.

–       One of those? What do you mean? Isn’t he a man? she said raising her eyebrows, giving her expression a threatening look.

–       He is, but I guess he is a good guy.

–       Hahaha, so you think only bad guys come in here. Well, that’s the funniest thing I’ve heard in a while. My darling, bad guys and this place, have not a single thing in common. Text your friend and tell him to meet you here; you have to come inside to see something.”

I don’t remember agreeing to go inside, but I know I have obeyed her command, and then I’ve followed her like a little puppy that chases a ball for the first time.

About the author

Ela Vasilescu

I’m a writer based in Florence, Italy.

Human nature inspires me, different cultures, traditions, folk stories and the differences which make us unique. Documenting stories is a privilege, a glimpse into humanity, an unforgettable experience, one which I embrace and honour every day.

If you have a story twitching in the back of your pocket, one that is ready to be told, shared and heard, chances are I will be ready to listen; so don’t hesitate to send me an email.

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Writer In Florence Ela Vasilescu