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The Story Continues 3 

    page views:1  Publication date:2017-12-31  
I arrived at Rogers half an hour early, feeling anxious. She arrived about ten minutes later. We hadn't exchanged photos or video chatted; we only knew each other through text messages. But when our eyes met, it was as if we had a telepathic connection—we knew it was each other. She was indeed no longer young, thirteen years older than me. Perhaps she had weathered many storms; her face bore some shallow wrinkles. She wore makeup, not heavy, but clearly well-done. Her hair was curly, just covering her neck, and she wore no jewelry, only dark brown sunglasses. Because it was hot, she wore a burgundy fitted T-shirt with silver foil embellishments at the chest, a black fitted knee-length skirt, flesh-colored pantyhose, and white sandals. She looked very sophisticated and capable.
From the moment we met, an invisible atmosphere seemed to exist between us—three parts nervousness, three parts timidity, and four parts unease. But we quickly calmed down. I could tell she was suppressing her emotions, and I think I was too.
We sat down and ordered a few simple dishes and two pitchers of beer. The food arrived, but we didn't eat anything. Finally, I picked up my beer and said to her, my voice trembling slightly, "No matter what, we have to celebrate." She nodded, and we clinked glasses and each took a big gulp. Her face was slightly flushed from the alcohol. I was trying to figure out how to start the conversation when she spoke.
She said she had made a mistake, that she shouldn't have developed feelings for me. She was much older than me, had a husband and children, and shouldn't have had such thoughts. I told her I didn't care; she should divorce her husband and be with me. She said if we did that, everyone around us would criticize us and we wouldn't be accepted. Besides, her husband treated her very well, and her children were obedient; she couldn't make a decision that would hurt them.
Although I was already 26, I was still quite naive about relationships. I told her that sincerity can move mountains. I wouldn't give up. She said I was too naive in relationships; I would regret it, I would ruin myself and her. Gradually, I drank one shot of beer after another and started to get excited.
Around 9:30, the restaurant was much less crowded. Our seats were in a rather secluded spot, with no other customers around and no waiters in sight.

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