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Foreseen
Jarkko Fräntilä | | | | | |
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At the party.
He looks at her: Her grey eyes are too far away from her nose, her
short brown hair is too greasy to say she's goodlooking, but as she's
staring out the window, down the street and at the people walking
there, he decides.
He walks to her.
"Hey", he says.
No response.
"Hey", he says again, now a little louder. Still nothing.
Disappointed, he walks back to his chair.
At the park.
He takes his jacket and walks out. He's just passing the parkbench
when he hears somone walking behind him.
"Hey! Wait!"
He turns around and sees her running to him.
"Would you like to walk me home?" she says, staring at him with her
blue eyes. He smiles.
"I thought I'd never hear that question again", he says. They turn
around and walk towards her apartment.
At her place.
They both are nervous. They stare at the wall, looking for things to
say.
"Would you like something to drink?" she asks.
"Yes."
She goes to the kitchen, pours two vodkadrinks into two glasses and
comes back to the livingroom.
"Here."
"Thank you."
They both drink their vodkas down with one quick handmove.
Silent for a while. Then she stares at him with her light brown eyes.
"Would you like to do it?"
"Yes."
Hand in hand they walk to the bedroom.
On the bed, after they've made love.
The man lits a cigarette. Inhales. The thick smoke lingers towards
the ceiling, where it decides to spread itself around the room.
"Do you love me?" she asks. He inhales smoke again, blows it out,
gently.
"Maybe", he says. She remains silent for a while, until a silvery
tear slowly appears to her cheek.
"It's ok", she says, trying to hold back the tears, but she can't
help herself.
"Is it?" he asks her, putting the cigarette into the ashtray and
putting his arm around her, kissing her on the cheek. The tears are
salty, but he doesn't mind.
"Yes. It's ok."
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