“My dear Maya,” said Antonio, “I missed you.” I had to admit that I missed him too. I was sitting on a bench in the garden in front of the building, where Grigoriy came to visit his grandmother. I had no dilemma about which man I liked better. However, I wasn’t quite ready to go with him. Antonio told me that he would recite to me the poetry of the best Spanish poets. I smiled. “Unfaithful Housewife by Lorca?” I suggested. And the Spaniard, in the next moment, started reciting that poem.

Written to practice my English. Thanks for reading.