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And I thought that when he was silent, looking closely at the outside, that he was really willing to change the subject. However, I caught him throwing surprised and question-laden glances in my direction. I kept all the desires to match his attention and occupied myself with the view outside the window, the streets that were full of people looking for fun and that of the square that began to come into focus as he parked below a large tree that shook its branches according to the force of the cold wind.

"Do you know what pressure that is? "He asked suddenly, as he opened the car door for me to climb on the sidewalk around the square. "Do you know how happily I feel pressured?”

" With what?”

"That I'm on a date with a writer, of course," he said, putting the subject back on the agenda. I grumbled, but he took my hand in yours again to convince me to listen to him. "It's, really, Tasha. You don't know the pressure it is to know that anything I say tonight will be in some dialogue in a b