Courtship

He looked at her T-shirt. It read, Harmful to some, harmful to all, in white Gothic letters above one of those Celtic three-fold knots. She was young and very ugly, which she had tried to soften with some dramatic make-up, but her black outfit was rather sharp – except for the daft round glasses. She was sitting all alone on a plastic chair amid small pools of water in the outdoor pavilion of the seaside café. Waves crashing on the rocky coast sent sprays of saltwater into the air, creating small rainbows that stood out clearly against the dark clouds to the east. She didn’t notice him, absorbed in a worn paperback. Some sort of fantasy novel judging by the cover. Her hair was dyed black, but she was undoubtedly a blonde. It stuck out in long spikes.

He considered leaving, but then she looked up and saw him. She smiled in a relaxed, almost indifferent way. Then she slid the book into the large pocket of her long leather jacket and came to him.

“You do not look one bit like the picture on Tinder,” she said with a hoarse voice. “You look awful.” She touched his hair, then rested her hand on his chest briefly, as if wanting to feel his heart.

“Neither do you,” he replied, not sure what to say. “Look like on Tinder, I mean.”

“I got interested because you sounded like you came from another planet.” she said after a short pause. “Like a dimwit… of sorts.”

“I suppose,” he said.

“I must admit that I fancy you already. So I’d better tell you that I want children. Didn’t put that in my bio. I’m also eating a lot of meat, so you can obviously shove the thing I wrote about being a vegan up your arse… and then there’s the thing with the wings.” She unfolded a pair of enormous raven wings. He was taken aback. They had been there all the time and he hadn’t noticed. He’d been wrong. He’d been a fool.

She was beautiful.