Short, straight, burnt caramel hair. I do not know of her eyes, neither their form nor their colour. Her smirk forced me to lower my chin while smiling back. I only observed her laughter and few of her gestures. I’ve also heard her curse and her face was extremely calm. She excused herself with a deep breath. 

Later today, she walked by, eyes on the ground, a little bit tired, that’s how she seemed to me. Before that, she came again in the room. This time I looked at her eyes when her glare was focusing elsewhere. I saw the same burnt caramel colour. 
Her shirt was too chaotic, unfit, out of her standards. It amazes me how easily she changes. Her sceptical staring permitted me to watch her closer. The moment she laughed I tried to take my eyes of her but still, the chaotic shirt caught my eye. 
I was telling you about earlier when she walked by me. She gave me a quick look but I did not let our eyes meet, I narrowed my chin to the ground once again. The skin on the back of my neck tightened. 
It was something special about this woman, a mystery I will not understand but I wish I could explore.





I don’t have the permission to brag or make you pity me. Today is the first day of November, another first, another November, one more year. It saddens me. The cold weather, the wounded souls, desperate and yet, peaceful. It hasn’t even began yet (winter) but it seems a lot like it. The nights are noisier, the flashing of the soaked leaves is harshening and people tend to prepare themselves for the season. Some of them are sticking to their old habits while others keep on looking for their next year’s victim.
I fear these firsts; first infatuation, first catch of the eye, first kisses and first of November. All of the above have the tendecy to begin something. I even fear to admit what that something may be.
Last night I discovered how careless a soul can be. Even if the blurred mind can think clearly, the soul, no matter what, makes it its’ way. A man flushed me with his philosophies. I would only sip and listen. He wouldn’t keep his mouth nor his mind. He judged every movement of my face and body. I didn’t’t want to admit his rightfulness. I preferred trying to change his words with sporadic NO’s. He wouldn’t take it as an answer. He insisted with his meaningful words. He even dared to say that he could easily make me cry. That’s where my mind stopped; to that sentence. How can a stranger tell you that and be right about it? It was admirable.
Anyways. I will not write how it continued. It has no importance. Last night was the end of an era. Tonight is the beginning of another.
My eyelids are getting heavier and my skin is feeling the coldness. The foggy air is making it hard to breath and the darkness has fallen completely on my street. No soul, no light, just the noisy November.




     The way he blinked was obsessing her. In a few hours he lost his boyishness. She was staring at him, waiting for the right words to come out of his mouth. His glance was empty and his soul had grown. He was saying nonsensical words, hoping that he would confuse her.
That morning the sky was clear. Even the navy clouds were afraid to confront his temper. Her bed was warm, the creases of her blanket tightened her body and she wouldn’t leave that bed if the alarm clock wasn’t so persistent. Hours later she found herself insulted by his manners. Clouded by that feeling of disavowal, she was still studying his movements with the edge of her eye. She used to do that quite often as it was such a pleasure to observe a man’s wildness fighting the child inside him. “Men must believe us stupid when thinking that we don’t know!”, she quoted. She was repeating the same preposition to herself. That was the truth that she didn’t want to live by.
She was a bit charmed and half excited. He was unpredictable and that was the thing that agonized her.Even if he became what she couldn’t stand to encounter, a part of her was thrilled to read another chapter of him.