Mesoamerican Love

I walked down the street, my feet taking me here and there as I looked for a place to eat. My Uber had dropped me off at one of the restaurants, but I didn't like the looks of it, so I decided to look for another one. I was hungry, and all the restaurants were packed.

The street was full of people, most of them dressed in business casual attire. Some were dressed in suits or skirts, but most of them were wearing sweaters and jeans. I, on the other hand, was wearing a maxi skirt, a black tank top, and a denim jacket. I didn't have time to change before I left, and I wasn't going to change now. I actually liked the way they looked, especially with my red coat.

I didn't even realize where I was walking to until I bumped into someone. "Oh, I'm so sorry!" I quickly apologized while I was looking down to pick up the papers that had flown everywhere. That's when I saw him.

He was dressed in a dark suit, with a shirt and tie, but his face was what really shocked me. He was very pale, and he wore a hat, but I could see that he had dark hair and dark eyes. Darker than any human's eyes could ever be. He looked just like one of the ghosts I had seen before.

"It's okay," he said, then took my hand and pulled me up.

"So you can talk?" I asked, still looking at him with fascination. He reached up and took off his hat, revealing his dark hair. "And your hair is black."

"Of course I can talk," he said, amused. "I'm not a ghost."

"So..." I trailed off, unsure of what to say next.

He grinned at me, amused. "So..." he said slowly, mimicking me. "I'm not a ghost. I'm a person. A living, breathing person."

I chuckled. "Yeah, I know," I said. "But you're also a bit of a ghost. I mean, you're pale and you wear black. You look like one of the ghosts that haunted my house when I was younger."

"Really?" He sounded surprised. "And how old are you?"

"Twenty-three," I replied.

"And you still believe in ghosts?" he asked.

"Well, no," I said, blushing. "I don't. Not really. I mean, I do think that there are ghosts, but I don't believe that they scare people. But... I just assumed that you were a ghost."

He laughed. "Ah, well, I'm not. So I guess we can stop pretending that I'm a ghost."

"Who were you pretending to be?" I asked, confused.

"You expected me to be a ghost," he said, still smiling. "I just played along."

"Oh," I said, suddenly feeling embarrassed. "So, um, who are you?"

"Oh, I'm sorry," he said, holding out his hand. "I'm Dylan. And you?"

"I'm Anne," I said, shaking his hand. "Nice to meet you, Dylan."

"Likewise, Anne," he said.

"So, um..." I trailed off again, not sure what to say.

"So..." he repeated, smiling. "You're not from New Orleans, are you?"

"No, I'm not," I replied. "I'm from Chicago. I'm only in town for a conference."

"Ah," he said, nodding. "And what conference is it?"

"It's called the C* Conference," I replied. "It's a technical conference."

"Ah, I see," he said. "Well, I'm not from New Orleans either."

"Oh? Where are you from?" I asked.

"I'm from Mexico," he replied. "I'm here for a meeting."

"Oh," I said. "My dad is from Mexico... Are you from Mexico City?"

"Yes, I am," he said. "I live there."

"Wow, that's amazing," I said. "My dad lives in Mexico City too." We looked at each other for a moment, then laughed.

"What?" I asked.

"Nothing," he said, continuing to laugh. "You just remind me of my wife."

"Oh?" I asked, surprised. "How?"

"Well, first of all, she's a lot prettier than you," he said, smiling. "But she had the same kind of face when I first met her. She looked so amazed, like she couldn't believe what she was seeing."

"Well, I've never seen a man dressed in a suit before," I said. "I mean, I've seen plenty of men in suits, but never anyone dressed like you."

"Well, I hope that I can be at least a little bit interesting," he said, smiling.

"Oh, you are!" I exclaimed. "I mean, you're a handsome man in a suit. How can you not be interesting?"

"Well, thank you," he said, still smiling. "I'm glad you think so."

"I do," I said.

"Well, since I'm not a ghost, why don't we get some food?" he suggested. "If you want."

"I'd love to," I said, smiling.

So, hand in hand, Dylan and I walked down the street, looking for a place that served food.