I’m pretty sure my eyes gleam. I don’t think he has any idea how much taking those little worries away means to me.
The girl hands him hisstroopwafeland gives me a quick smile.
“Enjoy Amsterdam.”
We say our goodbyes and head down the street. The first bite is pure bliss.
“So good, Sapphire. Thanks for bringing me here.”
I groan softly and take another bite. When I finish mine, I notice Tom hasn’t touched his. He’s folding and unfolding the blue napkin instead.
I was right. Something’s off.
“Tell me, where is that pretty smile of yours?”
He gives it to me then; he always does when I ask for it.
“I could open my invisible notebook, ask a few probing questions in my therapist voice. You’d pour your heart out, become mildly touch-starved, and eventually tell me I’m full of shit while landing on my shoulder anyway. I know you like the roleplay.”
“Fucking hell, Yosh.” Tom drags his hand down his face, shaking his head. “I’ve created a monster.”
It lightens his mood, and that’s what I was after.
Let's see what comes back for me.
“Let me start by saying you have a very comfortable shoulder. It's so soft with just the right muscle tightness.” He lets out a feral noise before taking a first bite from hisstroopwafel. Then he breaks it in two, giving me one half. I won't say no to that, I’ll deal with the sugar crash later.
“Okay. There’s something I want to tell you.” He licks a drop of syrup from his thumb. “But it’s probably best if I show you. It’s nearby.”
“Lead the way.”
“I might need that shoulder later on.”
“Sounds serious.”
“Well…” Tom offers a cynical smile that disappears too fast. “As serious as a heart attack.”
We round the corner, leaving the tourist area behind. It’s quieter here, no canals to cross. We take a narrow alley, and after a few minutes, we step into an open square. There are several bars and what looks like the entrance to a club. It’s clearly a place that comes alive at night. Now, during the day, it’s just us.
We stop in front of a small eatery. Grilled meat. It smells incredible. I look up:Tarik’s Shawarma Place.
“Here it is,” he whispers.
I glance at the red-and-green storefront, then back at him. “What’s here?”
“This is where my heart stopped.”
I stay quiet, giving him space. There’s a lot moving through his head. He lets out a bitter laugh and looks at me.
“It’s surreal, standing here with you. I never could’ve imagined this.”
I hold his hand. “I’m glad I’m here with you. With you and your beating heart.”
“I really thought it was over. I even had something like a near-death experience, I think? I was back in Scotland. I saw Jay. Then I was free-falling, and Emily came for me. At leastThe Ringversion of her. First she strangled me, then a pond of black tar dragged me under. It wasn’t the light at the end of the tunnel like they say, it was pure horror.”
His words intrigue me. I’d be lying if I said they didn’t. Near-death experiences have always fascinated me. I’ve read essays, even medical perspectives from coma specialists. The way he describes it? It's nothing like the stories and it sounds terrifying.
“I never want to go through that again.”
