Konttori was the most celebrated nightclub in town,‭ ‬though certainly not the best, on top of overly priced:‭ ‬its long admission queue led the customers, past the bully bouncers, to a local ‬densely permeated by cigarette smoke,‭ ‬puddled with beer and carpeted in glass debris,‭ ‬with a narrow and stifling dance floor and the worst-tempered staff imaginable.‭ ‬However,‭ ‬inexplicably though it seemed to me,‭ ‬it was the chicks‭’ ‬favourite pick,‭ ‬and therefore also the guys’.‭ ‬After all,‭ ‬its reputation wasn’t altogether unjustified –‭ ‬or at least I used to get lucky there, my expectations were seldom disappointed.
That was my last night in Konttori. It was in fact my last night in town, as a few days later I was bound to leave the country for good.
‭Posted in one of the strategic corners,‭ ‬stout in hand,‭ ‬I was keeping a watch on the entrance door, checking on the  convex-gendered newcomers and on the chicks around, like a vulture in check for a prey.
‭The woman appeared suddenly in the focal point of my retine. She was neither too pretty nor too young,‭ ‬but — her eyes beaming with a natural smile of their own,‭ ‬she was one of those rare owners –should I say portrayers?– of an ineffable‭ ‬something around the countenance or bearing,‭ ‬some I-don’t-know-what that seemed the quintessence of sympathy,‭ ‬an inborn elegance in demeanour,‭ ‬the ultimate sparkle of intelligence,‭ ‬a‭ ‬something that lent her an unmistakable and irresistible allure, making her conspicuously outstand the others.
‭Nonetheless she was in the company of a man,‭ ‬and I quickly consigned her to oblivion.

‬A while later I crossed them on my way to the dance floor,‭ ‬and I was surprised to hear my own voice unexpectedly saying:‭ ‘‬you’ve got something special‭!
‭–Thank you‭! ‬So do you’, ‬was her immediate reply; and a broad smile on her mouth underlined the other smile on her eyes. But we kept our own way.

Further on, ‬we came across again.‭ ‬She was now by herself,‭ ‬her companion nowhere to be seen, and, ‬stopping by me, she ‬endowed me with a resplendent expression of gratitude:
–I wanted to thank what‭  ‬you told me before‭– ‬she said.
‭–Not at all. ‬I wasn’t flattering you –I replied,‭ looking for my words–: I just couldn’t help uttering what my mind was thinking.‭ ‬You have that charismatic something… a natural radiance onto your visage,‭ ‬like a glamour… a kind of luster that outstands.‭ ‬Instead of dodging my stare, you looked straight into my eyes…‭
–One thousand heartfelt thanks‭! ‬–she almost shouted–.‭ Yes,‭ ‬it’s true that our nation suffers from an excess of shyness.‭ ‬But please, don’t ever stop doing what you’ve done.‭ ‬Please don’t stop stating those thoughts‭!
I hadn’t ever met a woman so grateful by a compliment,‭ ‬and I wondered if she had been told anything similar before‭.
We talked for a short while,‭ ‬barely long enough for learning her name — that I have now forgotten. Then we heartily shook hands to the last of our words, prolonging –probably ‬longer than necessary– ‬a contact that had turned into a caress.‭..
–May you have a beautiful life‭ –was her farewell sentence; ‬and ‬before turning round ‬she sent me on her fingers a warm kiss that I –clumsy me!– didn’t manage to intercept, and got lost in the smoke,‭ ‬the music and the clamor of Konttori.

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