#6 COSY IN MY MIND
Because the medicine for Mia’s grandmother was expensive and Mia didn't want to use the small pension of her grandmother for it, she needed another job. She found an offer for a translator. Her own grandma wasn't as nice as the old “grandma Zofia” and Mia wouldn't ever call her grandma a grandma. It was just “grandmother”. No emotions, no talks, no taking care. Mia’s grandmother was a cold old lady. Mia herself was the greatest problem for her grandmother and she didn't want Mia to aks for more than she got even if she had to work more or less hard.
Recently, Mia bought some new books and schoolbooks. Her grandmother wasn't happy about it and said such books could be found in every library. There was no necessity to have a library at home. Yes, home sweet home, without books, without fantasy worlds and without any warm feelings, but with a history.
Mia looked at the job advertisement and called the number. She talked shortly to the guy and made an appointment. Of course, she knew right away where she wanted to meet this guy. She never risked too much. The voice on the line was very warm and comforting. And professional. And curious. They didn't have to talk for hours and they didn't. On the next day, they should meet in a small and amiable place called “Casablanca”. The guy suggested meeting in “Sunshine”, one of the new clubs, but she turned it down with her own proposal. She already knew that place, because she walked in there on her very first day in Warsaw. It was located in the city centre, but not easy to find. Moreover, the atmosphere was good enough to read books. She loved books and never had an own place to read them. At home, it was impossible, because she didn't feel well there. There was no possibility to read, aloud or not. At school – yeah, who is reading books at school? Such small teahouses, which you could easily find in every bigger city, were the magical places where you could sit for hours and read, read, read.
“Casablanca” was one of them, and it also was stylish and young at the same time. The air smelled like true rooibos, delicious vanilla, and seductive chocolate cookies. The walls were not naked, but with modern, blue and green patterns on a sand-yellow background. The furniture had an old style and was made of real wood, not wannabe-wood. Here and there, old dried out flowers were hanging on the walls and the candles on the tables had different shapes and colours. “Casablanca” was just perfect.