The Lost Journals of Ponce De Leone - Part II

[goldentone]

The next morning I arose to a beautiful day worthy of regalement in a fine Spanish restaurant
with Spanish coffee and dessert.  Right now I made my way to the excavation site I had
carefully hid with prudence to spare.

I withdrew from the chest the blue cloth-wrapped journal of the fallen explorer and placed
it inside the inside pocket of my leather jacket.  I took some moments to survey and savor
the sparkling undulations of the sea in the distance. 

As the lunch hour advanced to its position, I lost no pace but headed on foot through the
quaint streets to La Colebriana founded circa a century before.  As I followed the
waiter, vibrant surges of a romance returned to my mind as though revived from the
Lethe waters.

I sat for a few minutes when a distinguished figure, wearing a suave white hat, made his way
to my section of the restaurant.  He smiled and tipped the waiter, as though there was more
history to their interaction than moments would disclose.  I took in the happy street activity
as my attention diverted from the gentleman.

I sensed the air auspicious with a tint of still more while the waiter brought my coffee.