Possessed hearts
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– Where did you buy that T-shirt? – I grinned, pulling back the collar of his T-shirt.
– There's a souvenir shop next to my restaurant. Oh, you want one of these? – Martin replied with a grin.
– You got me. I've been dreaming about it all my life! – I laughed briefly. – So, will you come?
– I'm not sure. I need to check my schedule. Just a minute. – Martin pulled his iPhone out of his jeans pocket. – Has the exact opening date been announced yet?
– Tenth of October.
– Damn, I'm busy. A meeting with a Japanese entrepreneur," Martin sighed, putting the iPhone back in his pocket. – How about moving the opening date?
– I think it would be a lot easier for you to reschedule the meeting with the Japanese than it would be for me to reschedule the opening date. What do you want from him so badly? – I asked a little irritated. I needed Martin's presence at the opening of my exhibition. Like blood.
– I want to open a chain of Polish restaurants.
– Where?
– Osaka and Nagoya.
– Why not Tokyo? – I asked
– A little later, if the business makes a good profit. – Martin smiled contentedly. – But for friends and family, everything is on me.
– Well, then the fact that we don't eat their food is good for you. Imagine a bunch of Mroczeks and Morgans eating you at three mouthfuls each! – I grinned. – But you've upset me, really upset me, Martin.
– I'm sorry. This meeting was planned two months ago," my brother said in an apologetic tone. – By the way, when you came here, none of the teenagers asked for your phone number? They didn't take you for one of their own?
"Well, they did!" – I thought mockingly.
– 'Ha ha, that's so funny! – I punched him lightly on the shoulder, and he was smiling with his mouth, clearly pleased with his joke. – You must have all the high school and college girls here in love with you, right?
– Well, you don't have to exaggerate. Not all of them. But I do get a lot of eye contact. – Martin blinked his eyes, mimicking those unfortunate ones. – I've never asked you before, but what's your age limit?
The age of the victim.
I hesitated, but couldn't pinpoint an exact figure.
– What's yours? – I asked instead of answering.
– Twenty-six.
– That sharp?
– It's just right-still young, but almost aged.
– And before you drink the wine, you ask, "Don't take it as an impudence, my good man, but would you be so kind as to tell me your age? – I asked ironically.
– Very rarely. But it happens. I've only been wrong a couple of times, but only by a year or two.
– Who do you prefer to drink with?
– I'm not sexist. If wine is worthy of consideration, what's the point? But you didn't answer.
– Honestly, I don't even know. I don't ask their age unless they tell me. But I don't deal with high school and college kids. So somewhere around twenty-five… Or, hell, it's entirely possible that I've drank wine with students too, if they were deliberately deceiving me. But that wasn't my fault anymore. – I shrugged and crossed my arms over my chest. – You know who's sponsoring my exhibition? Brandon.
– Oh, my gods! I give him a big thank you for that and all the blessings! – Martin clapped his hands theatrically. He liked to fool around. – But seriously, I hear he's a devoted philanthropist. As devoted as he is to fucking mortal women.
– Let him have them, it's his choice. Or are you jealous of him? – I was joking.
– Oh yes, I'm full of envy! How can I live now, knowing that in my years I have never once fondled a mortal girl? – Martin sighed playfully. – My whole life is going down the drain! I'll hook up with someone tonight, I promise.
'You'll never do that, my dear. "I know you like the back of my hand. You only know how to joke," I thought with a sweet smile, knowing full well that his words were just a bluff. After all, he despises mortals. And so do I. But I liked to play with them, and Martin considered it perverse. But while he found Brandon and his passion for mortal women ridiculous, he accepted me and my passion for them. Naturally, for I am his sister, and he loves me no matter what I do. My dear big brother.
– There's the moon," I said quietly, looking up into the sky.
The moon slowly slipped out from behind a herd of dark, almost black clouds and cast its divine soft light over the earth. To Gdansk. On Martin. On me.
– If it had shone forever, there would have been no limit to my gratitude. – Martin also looked up at the sky. – What a beauty. Too bad it's not full.
We contemplated the pale face of the moon in silence for a minute. Everything died in that moment: the noise, the sea, the people, the music. Only the moon was alive. Caressing me, comforting me. It was like stroking my cheek and whispering: "Be strong. I'm always with you."
Well, moon, you're right. I should tell Martin. You've given me strength.
I looked at my brother: he was still looking at the moon, and it was reflected in his eyes.
– Martin, I have to tell you something. – I touched his arm. He looked back at me. – It's very important. But it's so difficult… I've been carrying this secret in me for so long…
– What? – He squeezed my palm as if to encourage me.
I opened my mouth to finally get rid of my secret, to unleash it on my brother. To share my innermost thoughts.