The ideas keep flowing and I apologize for this madness.
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"You're joking me." Izak almost growled to himself as he tore his fridge apart, searching for the cabbage he swore he had bought. He was already in the middle of preparing gołąbki for his dinner tomorrow, only to come to realize he had no cabbage to wrap the meat mixture in. He slammed the fridge shut in irritation, walking to the front door to put his shoes on. He paused for a second, realizing that he had his glasses perched on his face rather than contacts like he normally did when going out in public, but he didn't have time to put his contacts in right now. He grabbed his wallet and keys, and left the house, locking the door behind him.

He went to the closes market available, and entered quickly with a purpose. Izak NEEDED that cabbage. He hadn't had gołąbki in so long, the craving was becoming rabid and urgent. He made his way with pace to the produce section, when he spotted something that made his heart stop.

Or rather, someone.

The golden corkscrew curls thrown up in a high ponytail were enough of a give her away, but when she turned enough for him to see her dark brown, almost black eyes, full lips, and sculpted brown brow, Izak knew he was looking at Melina Caulodren, the barista at his work. Surely, she would recognize him. The glasses on his face suddenly seemed to weigh a whole lot more as he swerved his steps, opting to take a longer route to avoid her seeing him. He arrived at the cabbage without incidence, and was picking through his choices when a cart came up next to him.

"It always seems that all the good stuff is picked over, huh?" A female voice asked, her words lightly accented. It was hard to tell if the accent was German, Austrian, or Swiss, but Izak recognized Melina's voice. "It takes a bit to find a cabbage that isn't falling apart. Like this," She picked up a sad-looking piece of produce, with its leaves withering as the outer sections hung off, no longer willing to hold on, it seemed, "are grocery stores even allowed to leave this out for us?" She laughed slightly.

Silence settled, and Izak realized two things. One, Melina hadn't realized yet who she was talking to. Two, she was waiting for a response.

Izak knew if he spoke in his normal tone, Melina would recognize his difficult-to-understand mix of a French and Polish accent. So instead, he opted to try out his American accent. "Yeah, I can't help but think that would be considered a health code violation, ya know?"

He horribly failed at the American accent.

Melina glanced over, intrigued. "You sound funny. I mean- okay, that came out wrong. You're accent though, it's really strange. Where are you from? Wait a sec..." Izak could now feel her dark eyes searching his face, probably starting to recognize the sharpness of his nose and the structure of his cheek bones.

He let out a small sigh of defeat, his cheeks taking up a gentle rosy hue. "Well, I came here from France, but-"

"Izak?" She almost shouted his name, her eyes wide. "Oh my God, I didn't even recognize you at first. You where glasses? Why are your eyes green- I could have sworn they were brown."

Izak swallowed nervously. "My contacts are colored." He mumbled, his voice almost a whisper.

Melina leaned forward to get a better look at them. "Wow, they're so pretty. Why did you get colored contacts?"

Izak turned his head away, his stomach churning violently with nerves as his face flushed even deeper. "I don't know." He lied, grabbing a cabbage quickly and turning away. "I'll see you at work tomorrow." He called back without turning around, his body shaking slightly as he sped walked to the check out.

What a nightmare- well, in his mind, anyway.