At its many counters, salespeople stood serving customers. The walls were lined with cell phones. Weynfeldt had drawn the number 418, and was waiting to see it light up on the electronic display. Was he in love? Lightly smitten, certainly. He had never met a woman like Lorena. So direct. So nefarious. And yet so … innocent? Nonsense! Obviously she was playing games with him. But he was playing along, letting her play her games. It brought back feelings he hadn’t known since his youth, his teenage years. Back then the girls played games with the boys. Kept them guessing. Didn’t show up to dates. Got their girlfriends to say they didn’t love you anymore. Asked for time to think. Denied you kisses, and the few other things you dared to do back then. He felt like he had back then: soaring between hope and fear; sky-high one minute, despondent the next. Every so often there was movement among the people waiting, as a salesperson finally finished serving someone. And from time to time the electric ding-dong from the number display forced its way into his daydreams.
What do You think about The Last Weynfeldt (2016)?
