| Part One


Sitting at the edge of my bed I poured myself a drink or two; I do not quite remember, for the thought of her made me quiver and consumed my capacity of thinking. How strange of a night it has been, I thought, while the first twitterings entered my house and sunrays fell on the white curtains.

She was a delightful woman, with black eyes and porcelain skin; her golden hair falling swiftly upon her shoulders, a scent of honey and flowers made heads turn and eyes follow her at any price.
As she spoke, soft and slow, with an utterly romantic and somewhat tragic voice, and words so bitter-sweet, they could have escaped Oscar Wilde’s novels, people became silent. They listened carefully to what they might never fully understand, but what else could you do but listen to this wonderful creature.
Even her silence was graceful, as she glared at you with a childish curiosity, but a mature strength and recklessness. She rarely smiled, what made me eager to conquer her, for her smile stirred in me the desire of being her only spectator. I was fond of that woman since the day I first saw her at the local’s butcher, what a strange place to meet the woman of your deepest dreams, and so I made sure to encounter her as often as possible.

You see, I only later understood that it was impossible to conquer a woman who possesses every inch of your mind.


It was shortly after noon when the phone rang and I got torn from my dreams. I had fallen asleep with the empty liquor glass tightly slung around my hand; and it was only now that I smelled the awful scent of alcohol within my room. The sun shone brightly at the windows of my apartment and made the air thicker than on the usual rainy days. I lifted my body, still tired of last night, and hushed to the ringing phone. 

“Still asleep, Francis?”. 
It was Dorian, who annoyed me with his too loud and content voice, pretending to be the luckiest man alive and having nothing to worry about. Yet his life too, like many others, was in pieces. “Richard and me will meet at the theatre today, do you want to join us?”, he asked, with the same happy voice. “I’ll be there at six, don’t be late”, I answered and ended the call a few seconds later. 

I was putting on the new olive suit I had bought at Edgar’s a few days before when I realized that my face had altered. My usually pale and hollow cheeks looked vivid in its almost pink colour and it seemed that my gradually blackening hair was as enchanting as ever. I wouldn’t call myself handsome, for I had a crooked nose and small eyes, but ever since I met that woman I had gained something utterly interesting. There was something about her that made my body come to life.

Jehona Thaqi©

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