Peek-a-boo Burger ①

“It’s a story from when I was at a fast-food chain, sitting alone with the cheapest single burger and a coffee. A young man sitting diagonally across from me kept peeking at me.”

“So that was Dad, right?” my daughter asked, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

“Wait, don’t rush the story.”

“Excuse me, but didn’t you have that same thing here yesterday?” Knowing that meant you were here too, didn’t it? “Are girls who eat hamburgers rare?” He nodded solemnly. “Because, you know, aren’t all girls supposed to love Italian food?” I tilted my head, wondering what to make of it. Two things were on my mind. ① The person was handsome, clean-cut, and pleasant. ② But behind him, countless stylish, Italian-food-loving girls were swarming.

“What is that, so frustrating!” my daughter said.

“I understand. It’s certainly safe here. But since you’ve gone to the trouble of coming all the way to Italy, why not try something else, like a ‘Tira-miss-you’?”

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