Broken Smiles

1. Her

      1. Her

I see him every day through my window. He lives on the other side of the narrow alley between our two houses. Only seven or eight meters away. I’ve been living here for nearly two months now.

He has dark brown, a bit curly and quite long hair that he often puts in a bun whenever he’s home. He seems to be around my height, about 170 cm (5.7”). He’s not a hundred percent fit but he’s not chubby either, he just looks soft, you know? I don’t think he hangs out much at the gym but he spends long hours on walks with his dog.

I adore everything he does. I have a view over both his living room and kitchen. I like how he spends a lot of time in the kitchen, presumably making plenty of delicious meals. That’s different from me who only walk in to the kitchen when I’m on the brink of starvation (which is every third hour) and basically only eat a sandwich or cereal. He even cooks proper meals for his dog…

I like his enormous bookshelf in the living room. I love that he brings home a new book at least once a week, and reads it.

I like his washed-out black jeans that he wears pretty much every day. I like that he lets his beard grow sometimes. I suits him, makes him sexier.

I like that the only girls I’ve seen in his flat the past four months have been his mates’ girlfriends.

Most of all I like midnight, when it’s a full-moon and I’m sitting in my window, where I usually sit and the light switch on in his living room. When he comes walking out of his bedroom with his chest bare and his hair messy. I like how he go stand in-front of the easel and stretch his back while putting his messy hair in a knot before grabbing the brush. I love how he paints on the canvas as if it were to save the world. I admire his passion. I adore that he doesn’t have such a finesse that he can’t paint without splotching paint all over himself. I like how he doesn’t care about the paint on his bare skin.

I like that when he’s too tired – he lays down on the floor, stretches his back, stares up to the ceiling and eventually falls asleep there until dawn breaks.

I like that when I wake up with my face pressed against the glass of my window, he’s standing in his, smiling.