He woke up with a terrible hangover and a naked girl next to him. It was a Sunday morning, a typical morning for a man like him. He yawed, stretched and tried to remember that girl's name. It was definitely something beautiful and exotic, because the girl was Asian. His brain was not fully recovered yet, so he decided to call her "Number 7". He chose that name because Sunday was the 7th day of the week. He left "Number 7" on his king's sized bed and went to take a shower...

Every Sunday he would wake up not knowing the name of the girl that he brought to his huge house the night before, not remembering whether he satisfied her or not. This kind of life was just perfect for him. No commitments, no worries, no tears, no presents after exhausting fights or nights. He didn't complain about his life, he was going with the flow, knowing that he would be alright no matter what happens. He thought of love as a pointless thing that was so popular among the weak losers that had too much time for such non-sense.

Every Sunday, at 3 p.m., he had lunch with miserable men that were called his friends. They discussed their new watches, cars, phones and sometimes politics. Women were never mentioned in their conversations, they didn’t deserve to be talked about. They got the bill, didn’t leave any tip, because the waitress was not very attractive and he went home to get some sleep.

Everything was going the right way that Sunday, until something happened. That something changed his whole World in one moment. That something was a gorgeous brunette with bright blue eyes that looked like the "Blue Laguna" cocktail that he had last night. He looked at her, expecting to charm her. He was just staring; knowing that this woman had to be his, otherwise his life could be thrown in a dirty bin. She looked at him with a great sadness in her eyes, thinking: "Oh, just another jerk that thinks that he can get me and then break my heart...but no one can break it again, and no one can heal it". While she was thinking, this handsome man with too much confidence started speaking to her.

She didn’t remember how that ended up in a restaurant. She was talking and talking and he was looking. He was too busy admiring her beauty that he didn’t hear a word that she said.

After a year since they had met, he was standing on his right knee asking her to be his wife. The last thing he expected to happen was his beloved woman having her eyes filling up with tears. They weren’t the happy sort of tears, that women have when their man propose. They were heavy, heartbreaking. She said one sentence: “I have cancer and I have a month left. I love you”, she kissed his soft lips and left, forever. He didn’t even get a chance to tell her how much he loved her. He didn’t even try to beg her to stay. The shock didn’t let his brain work in the right way. She left.

This Sunday was different. It was a day of her funeral. He promised himself not to cry, and he didn’t. A taxi took him home and then he let himself cry. Cry like a mother that lost her child.

30 years have passed, but every Sunday he sits alone thinking about her gorgeous blue eyes.