Page 180 - SpontaneousSuccessFINAL6

NICHOLAS BOOTHMAN
A woman emerged from behind a vibrant, floral-
patterned panel, her brightly colored suit a blend of
turquoise, yellow, and orange, perfectly suited to the
lively atmosphere
I said hello.
"Hello," she replied. "I believe you're here to see my
father."
We shook hands, and I asked pointing to the
signature on the wall. "You're that Lara?"
"I am."
Memories came rushing back. "You made me cry," I
said, exhaling deeply.
She leaned in, her voice barely above a whisper. "I
brought you a message the night Benfica won... and you
lost it." A hint of a smile played on her lips.
I marveled at her remembering our encounter from so
long ago. "You were six?" I asked, impressed, my eyes
widening slightly as I recalculated the years, astonished
by her remarkable recall.
Her smile blossomed, and she nodded.
A young man in his early twenties in a Take Five T-
shirt and chinos appeared from behind another panel
pushing a wheelchair. In it was a tall, skinny man
wearing a richly embroidered Middle Eastern hat.
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