She was outside the Irish pub, shaking her legs rhythmically to shoo the cold air from her. The long sneaky river was running in front of her, reflecting the grey color of the sky. She was pondering over to get or not another pint when a wavy figure stepped out the main door. She started sweating cold. He was him, no doubts. She could recognize those fluffly black hair on millions. She smiled. He was drunk, of course. But was he doing over there? Did he know she was there? While countless questions popped in her mind, she could not help thinking that in the midst of the soft lights, the green ribbons, and the dark beer he really resembled one of those curious Hibernian figures of those books her grandma used to read to her.

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