“What if, if he is too long for her?”
“What if, if he declines her existence as a blow?”
“What if, if he finds her too discomposed?”
She cannot see, what she knew about him is that from all her ears. She found incomprehensible easiness around him and now unendurable shallowness. She heard his laughter once; she knew his is most beautiful smile. He barely noticed twinkle in her eyes. He found her gesture too loud. He is not wrong either. These two souls are pole apart. He even cares about scratches on button of his shirt while she remains all time unperturbed of her rough hair, her hopeless shape, her absent mind.
He is distant. A silhouette, a tranquil sculpture.
She felt a sudden desire to search his impassive eyes which pretend most calm to her, could one be so immobile as if rock numb to agitated blow of water.
It was not so before. Once or twice he found her interesting and then suddenly he disappears. He doesn’t belong; his is his own existence, his own poise which she finds brute and appealing.
She even did not know if it is love? She is still shaken of her past and now present is all what she fear of. She searches for any clue in his inflection. And all she found is numbness in her vein, chill in her blood and randomness in hers.