You’re right, of course. I should have seen the tree. But I didn’t. Not with him here, in our restaurant, and at my table. Imagine. My hands shook as I took his order. He chose chilli. Not pâté de foie gras, not lobster and truffle sauce, not ambrosia and nectar. Chilli, and a small beer. Like a regular person. It was uplifting. Heavenly choirs sang. Gentle waves caressed the shore.
What do you mean, there’s nobody at the table? Fair enough, I missed the tree. But, really, you can’t see him? Seems we all have our areas of blindness.