During that Saturday's late-night happy hour, my close friend Marta did not look happy in our favorite Amsterdam bar. She and I were sitting totally hammered with nothing more to talk about.
Blue Marta Turning Red Marta
She stood up without much enthusiasm and went to the restroom — again. After 10 minutes, she came back with an intense sad face. She was searching for something on our table and she frowned. I was cold, thanks to December.
Her gaze swept our surrounding tables all over the bar. Her sad face had just turned red. You don’t want to be anywhere near her, but here I am.
“What’re you looking for?” I asked her with no excitement.
She acted like I wasn’t sitting there. I always wanted to be invisible yet alive.
I realized she had missed something precious — her phone or maybe her wallet.
“If you tell me what you’re looking for, I can help, Marta,” I said with slight excitement.
“I'm an independent woman. I don’t need your help,” she shut me down.
