During the ride we chatted about something. Jenn was rocking on the seat next to me, and I occasionally glanced at her snow-white legs from the corner of my eye, and with great difficulty resisted the temptation to speed off somewhere outside of the city into the dark forest.



And so, the culinary part was over for the most part. The staff gourmets were lapping up the dessert in the restaurant while the others strolled in the park.

Jenn was getting further on the lane along the shore, where the ducks and swans swam on the lake. It was unusual seeing her in shoes without heels.

I caught up to her and, shoving my hands in my jean pockets, walked next to her. She seemed unsurprised by this.

“The food was disgusting, very greasy. Now I’ll have to keep on a very strict diet for a week,” she said, stroking her belly as a confirmation of her words. “But what can be done if our director likes such damn greasy food? Aww, look!” she exclaimed.

A swan swam towards us from the opposite side of the shore. It was white with a long red beak, probably hoping to obtain something to chow down from us.

“It’s a shame that I don’t have any bread or crackers on me.” Jenn came to the edge of the stone shore.

The swan was getting closer; its quickly moving feet were already becoming visible under water.

Squatting down, Jenn extended her arm towards the swan.

“Swim here, to me.”

The bird stopped. It was looking with smart, attentive eyes at the woman sitting in front of it, and…kept swimming! It kicked its feet under water and, changing the curve line of its long neck, pressed on towards the hand. Now it will touch, oh God, will touch her palm with its beak!