He was sitting near the corner when I first saw him. I walked into the room, full of little round tables and chairs, filling up the space under the stage. The room was big, mostly empty; my stare fell on him. His hands were dirty with paint, his face too; his eyes had a distant look, concentrating their gaze into the infinity. He was trying to finish his play. A few tables away, my friend looked at me, and nodded for me to sit at her table. Fascinated as I was, he was all she talked about.
He took me for a walk. I admired his appearance as we were walking. He was dressed in a white sleeveless t-shirt and a large shirt above with light blue-green and yellow-white squares; a pair of baggy trousers down to his knee; a pair of worn out All Stars. His hair, golden as ever, tied into a tiny bun. We kept on walking hand in hand towards somewhere, I supposed. I asked him if he knew were; his answer negative. We started walking back to the little theatre. His stare was sweet, almost felt warm as he gazed upon me; then again, maybe it was the heart-warming smile that accompanied it. Lost in his own world he was, or at least that is what he seemed like to me, but in any way, that was a feeling and a state of mind that he transferred to me, which I more than gladly took in.
We walked into the room, our hands parting slowly before our entrance; it was something equal to a secret, not brought about from shame, but rather the mysterious joy of having something solely to ourselves. She looked at me when I reached her, maybe just a shade of jealousy in her eyes, seeing me walking in with him in such a manner (for the position of body easily changes and swifts, but when something is carved in the eyes, then it is impossible to be ignored). Her face, equally dirty with paint, came close near mine and she whispered: "I think he likes me". I smiled at her politely and did not let a sound out of my mouth, not the slightest that would imply how unfathomably wrong she was. there was not much point in that, anyway; it was merely just her feeling of such a superiority being slowly shattered that obliged her to make that remark.
And so, I said nothing. My mouth remained closed and I silent, but my mind never could be; for it was filled with sweet and warm memories from our walk, and heart-warming feelings as I saw his smile across the room, directed at me.
He took me for a walk. I admired his appearance as we were walking. He was dressed in a white sleeveless t-shirt and a large shirt above with light blue-green and yellow-white squares; a pair of baggy trousers down to his knee; a pair of worn out All Stars. His hair, golden as ever, tied into a tiny bun. We kept on walking hand in hand towards somewhere, I supposed. I asked him if he knew were; his answer negative. We started walking back to the little theatre. His stare was sweet, almost felt warm as he gazed upon me; then again, maybe it was the heart-warming smile that accompanied it. Lost in his own world he was, or at least that is what he seemed like to me, but in any way, that was a feeling and a state of mind that he transferred to me, which I more than gladly took in.
We walked into the room, our hands parting slowly before our entrance; it was something equal to a secret, not brought about from shame, but rather the mysterious joy of having something solely to ourselves. She looked at me when I reached her, maybe just a shade of jealousy in her eyes, seeing me walking in with him in such a manner (for the position of body easily changes and swifts, but when something is carved in the eyes, then it is impossible to be ignored). Her face, equally dirty with paint, came close near mine and she whispered: "I think he likes me". I smiled at her politely and did not let a sound out of my mouth, not the slightest that would imply how unfathomably wrong she was. there was not much point in that, anyway; it was merely just her feeling of such a superiority being slowly shattered that obliged her to make that remark.
And so, I said nothing. My mouth remained closed and I silent, but my mind never could be; for it was filled with sweet and warm memories from our walk, and heart-warming feelings as I saw his smile across the room, directed at me.
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