Secrets And Lies
The church bells toll from far away. She heard it while she got out of the taxi and took ten steps straight to enter the café. The taxi swept away with its light turned on. I’m still in time, she thought and closed her coat with her hands. The weather was chillier than she expected, but it made no sense to use the buttons for such a short distance. In two seconds she was about to open the café's door. She was anticipated. Somebody opened the door before she could even touch the clench. It was him. She took a deep breath to smell his parfume.
He was wearing the same long green scurf with a sea blue sweater. He looked somewhere between average and handsome. ’Hi’, he told her with a big smile on his face, as he followed her to the table. He helped her coat down and made her sit at the table. Their looks met when he finally sat in front of her. ’I’m glad you called me’, he said, ’I was not sure I made a good impression when we first met’.
’I’m not sure either’, she answered with a smile. Both of them asked for a capuccino with extra milk. She saw themselves again waiting at the tram station that morning. The whole city was fast asleep except for them. She was standing under the roof, he was balancing on the curb. The next thing she remembered was the cold touch of his palm on her nape and his warm breath on her cheek. ’You are beautiful’, he whispered. ’I want to take a picture of you. Call me’ and he put a card in her pocket. The tram arrived, he helped her onto the vehicle then walked away. From the window she still saw him stepping over a plash with a reflection in it. A picture from life she will never forget.
’The fact I called you and I’m here doesn’t necessarily mean that I’ll let you to take a picture of me. I want you to convince me’. She took a nip of her cappuccino. She heard people playing chess at the table behind her. ’Let’s play it by trust’ she added. (She didn’t tell him she was referring to Yoko Ono’s installation. Another picture in her head that popped up all the time.)
’I’m not interested in reality. I’m not interested in future, neither past. I’m not interested in present. I don’t want to capture ethernity in one second. I don’t care about beauty. Failures leave me cold. I only take black and white pictures of imaginary possibilities. Do you see yourself as one?’ he asked. She put her cup onto the table. She stretched one hand toward her bag. ’Do you have your camera with you?’ she asked. ’Yes’ he answered. ’Please take a picture of me reading this’ she said as she took the book in her hands. ’Page 242: Day by day, she slowly turned him into the man he was always destined to become.’ The camera flashed. After that, he told her she was the most beautiful blind woman reading a book and she believed him.
He was wearing the same long green scurf with a sea blue sweater. He looked somewhere between average and handsome. ’Hi’, he told her with a big smile on his face, as he followed her to the table. He helped her coat down and made her sit at the table. Their looks met when he finally sat in front of her. ’I’m glad you called me’, he said, ’I was not sure I made a good impression when we first met’.
’I’m not sure either’, she answered with a smile. Both of them asked for a capuccino with extra milk. She saw themselves again waiting at the tram station that morning. The whole city was fast asleep except for them. She was standing under the roof, he was balancing on the curb. The next thing she remembered was the cold touch of his palm on her nape and his warm breath on her cheek. ’You are beautiful’, he whispered. ’I want to take a picture of you. Call me’ and he put a card in her pocket. The tram arrived, he helped her onto the vehicle then walked away. From the window she still saw him stepping over a plash with a reflection in it. A picture from life she will never forget.
’The fact I called you and I’m here doesn’t necessarily mean that I’ll let you to take a picture of me. I want you to convince me’. She took a nip of her cappuccino. She heard people playing chess at the table behind her. ’Let’s play it by trust’ she added. (She didn’t tell him she was referring to Yoko Ono’s installation. Another picture in her head that popped up all the time.)
’I’m not interested in reality. I’m not interested in future, neither past. I’m not interested in present. I don’t want to capture ethernity in one second. I don’t care about beauty. Failures leave me cold. I only take black and white pictures of imaginary possibilities. Do you see yourself as one?’ he asked. She put her cup onto the table. She stretched one hand toward her bag. ’Do you have your camera with you?’ she asked. ’Yes’ he answered. ’Please take a picture of me reading this’ she said as she took the book in her hands. ’Page 242: Day by day, she slowly turned him into the man he was always destined to become.’ The camera flashed. After that, he told her she was the most beautiful blind woman reading a book and she believed him.
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