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  • Let me add my bean to Cowbird's coffee grinder.

    Sky was still heavy and black. (This happened next morning after the night of Faces on floor.) Big raindrops were dribbling from eaves of tall houses. Open door of the corner cafetería looked very inviting with its lilac neon light. We jumped over large puddles left by storm and hurried through the doorway. The athmosphere changed immediately as we got inside.

    The cafetería was tiny, shabby and dark. There were just one table and two chairs. Two gloomy-faced men were sitting on them, glancing at us suspiciously and mumbling something to each other. Another of them started cutting his fingernails with knife.

    Before we had a chance to retreat back to alleyway third man came in and blocked our way out. He looked enormous even in Scandinavian standards. The face was covered with full beard. Arms were filled with tattoos, not multicoloured and stylish and made by some design tattoo artist, but bluish and more like carved with a penknife in ship rocking and rolling recklessly in heavy sea.

    I asked for orange juice (didn’t drink coffee then). Bearded giant growled disapprovingly. Kirsi asked for café con leche, coffee with milk. Another deeper growl. The deepest growl was aimed at bartender. He put instantaneously handful of coffee beans on counter with big glass of aguardiente beside them. A giant munched the beans and emptied the aguardiente in one gulp, closed his eyes and clenched his fist around iron bar that kept a ceiling from falling, some plaster started to fall down instead. It was easy to imagine a coconut or human head crushing inside that fist. His biceps were thicker than my thighs.

    Fourth growl. Another glass of aguardiente. Without coffee beans.

    A beam of sunlight came through the dusty window and lightened up biceps next to me. There was a heart tattooed in the skin. Inside the heart there was a name written with cursive letters, the name was much more graceful work than all the clumsy tattoos around. I could read the name in the beam of light.

    It wasn’t Angelica. Or Lola. Or Desirée. Or Sabrina Of Seven Seas.

    Inside the heart it was tattooed: Mamá.
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