(no subject)

Sitting outside of a quiet cafe, Angela admired the pattern on the porcelain blue and gold of her delicate tea cup. Tracing the lines with her finger tips until she reached the rim, she realized there were several anomalies, slight ones, but her artist's fingers could feel them. Fantastic work! I must get this artist's name and number. She thought.

Turning the delicate cup over to look at the bottom, to her surprise it said Dresden, than the initials MLR -2007. So it WAS Dresden porcelain, the artist who put the cup back together, their initials were MLR, and the year it was broken (or repaired) was 2007. She wrote all this information down on a post it note, then headed inside to speak with the owner.

Sidling up to the counter, she waited until the shop was free of customers or everyone had a beverage so she could have some time. Finally she got to ask the wait staff for the owner or manager and she was directed to the backroom. Angela waited as she heard the women from the counter call for a person named Michael. Hmm, I wonder. Angela thought, trying to keep her expectations low.

A tall man limping with a cane, headed in her direction. Angela lowered her eyes, thinking he might be ashamed of his limp, but slowly raised them again realizing he looked too comfortable with his walk. Other than the limp, or in spite of it, he was gorgeous.

His tied back hair was black as a Ravens wing, and his eyes were blue as sapphires, a Grecian nose and a classic jawline completed his facial features. You could see his muscular chest and arms through his t-shirt, and he was wearing well fitting cargo pants. Angela thought he looked delicious.

Angela put her hand out for a handshake and introduced herself. " Hi, I'm Angela Martin. I was wondering if you could help locate the artist who pieced back together this cup. It's first rate work."

Mr. Delicious (as Angela thought of him) chuckled as he returned her handshake, "you happen to be looking at him! I'm Michael Russo. It's one of the many things I do for the shop. I specialize in the Kintsugi art of Japan. You must specialize yourself if you noticed it, Angela, may I call you Angela?"

"if I can call you Michael. There aren't many of we Kintsugi artists out there, Angela replied giving him a sunny smile. I hope you don't find me forward but can we go to dinner when you're finished with the shop tonight? This way we can discuss each other's work at leisure."

"I don't find it forward at all, Angela. Where do you want to meet, here? And then go somewhere else? I know a wonderful Trattoria if you like Italian?" Michael said enticingly.

"That sounds just wonderful. What time?" Angela asked.

"Eight o'clock good?" Michael questioned.

Angela handed him back his teacup, with a cheery smile and a yes, and then walked out into the sunlight waving as she got into her her car.

Michael watched her pull away before he full on laughed. He found himself remembering her delicate hands with the exacto knife scars. And the gold flecks in her green eyes, her long honey brown hair, and thought this was going to be a very interesting evening, and possibly the start of something more.

It was the first time since Beth's death in the avalanche which also gave him his limp, that he found himself genuinely interested in a woman. Angela seemed straightforward and not one for games, plus they also had their art work in common.

Yes, it will definitely be an interesting evening! Michael kept smiling and tried not to look at his watch every five minutes, then laughing when he failed miserably feeling like a schoolboy. But for once he was looking forward to a simple evening out, and Michael sincerely hoped Angela was also. Another glance at his watch, and he laughed, perhaps he was a schoolboy.

Week 13

Sitting outside of a quiet cafe, Angela admired the pattern on the porcelain blue and gold of her delicate tea cup. Tracing the lines with her finger tips until she reached the rim, she realized there were several anomalies, slight ones, but her artist's fingers could feel them. Fantastic work! I must get this artist's name and number. She thought.

Turning the delicate cup over to look at the bottom, to her surprise it said Dresden, than the initials MLR -2007. So it WAS Dresden porcelain, the artist who put the cup back together, their initials were MLR, and the year it was broken (or repaired) was 2007. She wrote all this information down on a post it note, then headed inside to speak with the owner.

Sidling up to the counter, she waited until the shop was free of customers or everyone had a beverage so she could have some time. Finally she got to ask the wait staff for the owner or manager and she was directed to the backroom. Angela waited as she heard the women from the counter call for a person named Michael. Hmm, I wonder. Angela thought, trying to keep her expectations low.

A tall man limping with a cane, headed in her direction. Angela lowered her eyes, thinking he might be ashamed of his limp, but slowly raised them again realizing he looked too comfortable with his walk. Other than the limp, or in spite of it, he was gorgeous.

His tied back hair was black as a Ravens wing, and his eyes were blue as sapphires, a Grecian nose and a classic jawline completed his facial features. You could see his muscular chest and arms through his t-shirt, and he was wearing well fitting cargo pants. Angela thought he looked delicious.

Angela put her hand out for a handshake and introduced herself. " Hi, I'm Angela Martin. I was wondering if you could help locate the artist who pieced back together this cup. It's first rate work."

Mr. Delicious (as Angela thought of him) chuckled as he returned her handshake, "you happen to be looking at him! I'm Michael Russo. It's one of the many things I do for the shop. I specialize in the Kintsugi art of Japan. You must specialize yourself if you noticed it, Angela, may I call you Angela?

"if I can call you Michael. There aren't many of we Kintsugi artists out there, Angela replied giving him a sunny smile. I hope you don't find me forward but can we go to dinner when you're finished with the shop tonight? This way we can discuss each other's work at leisure."

"I don't find it forward at all, Angela. Where do you want to meet, here? And then go somewhere else? I know a wonderful Trattoria if you like Italian?" Michael said enticingly.

"That sounds just wonderful. What time?" Angela asked.

"Eight o'clock good?" Michael questioned.

Angela handed him back his teacup, with a cheery yes, and then walked out into the sunlight.

Michael watched her saunter out the door before he full on laughed. He found himself remembering her delicate hands with the exact knife scars. And the gold flecks in her green eyes, her long honey brown hair, and thought this was going to be a very interesting evening, and possibly the start of something more.

It was the first time since Beth's death in the avalanche which also gave him his limp, that he found himself genuinely interested in a woman. Angela seemed straightforward and not one for games, plus they also had their art work in common.

Yes, it will definitely be an interesting evening! Michael smiling and trying not to look at his watch every five minutes, then laughing when he failed miserably. But for once he was looking forward to a simple evening out, and Michael sincerely hoped Angela was also. Another glance at his watch, and he laughed, perhaps he was a schoolboy.