She got up and went to get a cup of coffee. “Damned headache!” Acute and deep, precise, the day ruined.
- - As if a long, fine, pointy needle forced itself through my cranium, you know? A Chinese man with long mustache holding one point of the needle, manipulating it, pushing it very slowly.
- - Why Chinese?
Seriously, she could not believe it! A headache from Hell, dripping sweat after the coffee and that was the question?
- - Why not? Is there a law against the Chinese?
- I was just asking!
- - It’s my pain, isn’t it? If it’s Chinese, Japanese, Arabic, what is the difference?
- - Forget it!
She regretted the rude reply, but did not apologize! Apologizing would require time, explanations, facing the Chinese man, pulling him by the mustache, immobilizing him. She went into the room, closed the curtains, and laid down. She heard the door being slammed. “He is gone!” She thought of how much that answer was going to cost her in accusations of rudeness, selfishness, lack of caring. She knew it would be useless, but she would try to explain:
- It was the Chinese man!