Sitcom victim
I stare outside the restaurant window, I take a sip of my drink, and a UPS truck parks across the street. In the background Sade’s No Ordinary Love is playing. “This is exactly how I imagined it,” I tell Victor, as I’m clearly relaxed after drinking half my glass. I was a little girl in Mexico City dreaming about my life as an adult in New York, while staring at the limitless city lights from the balcony. My mom played eighties music and Sade was included in her playlist. Her voice transports me to that time when I was hoping to be here; and here I am. “I’m just missing the loft,” I added. “How did you knew about lofts as a little girl?” Victor asked suspiciously. “From an old sitcom about a young woman that worked at a music record label. She also had a brick wall at her apartment, and since then I’ve been crazy about red brick walls.”