The Hidden Tears of the Clown Girl

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After two weeks, I find myself back in these corridors.

I've only seen them twice. Yet, thanks to the positive memories associated with Glam, just being here imparts a great sense of tranquility, the same I felt while sleeping in bed with her.

I ring her intercom once and wait. However, I don't perceive any steps coming from inside the house.

I don't even sense a strong trace of her scent. Just a faint one. She's not home, then.

A bit disappointed, I head towards the elevator.

On second thought, what would I have said to her?

I would have greeted her, hoping for a reciprocal greeting. I would have asked her how she was, hoping she would ask me the same. And then?

Maybe the best thing to do would have been to talk about something else?

I ponder as I enter the elevator, then press the button for the ground floor.

I don't know. Things need to be addressed; otherwise, they worsen. Unaddressed issues are the primary cause of the destruction of a love story, at least in my experience.

But maybe now is not the mood for talking. But I can't know that. I'm not in her head, even though I can try to guess her emotions by listening to her heartbeat with my superhuman hearing.

On second thought, yes. That's what I need to do. My intentions with her are serious, and that means I have to be honest and take risks, even if the main risk is the possibility of losing her.

I hope to meet her again soon.

I exit the building and look around.

It's noon, and I have nothing to do. But I have plenty of money in my pocket.

There's a fruit vendor here who, in addition to selling fruit, prepares fruit juices. I'd say it's nutritious, sweet, and healthy, especially after I've run so much.

I cross the street on the crosswalk with ease and move to the other side.

I enter the fruit store and ask him to prepare two large fruit juices for me. I leave immediately while waiting for them to be ready.

But before I can step outside, I smell a familiar scent wafting into my nostrils. A scent that makes me turn my head sharply to the left, just after leaving the fruit store.

I recognize her immediately, and she recognizes me too.

<< Glam >>

She's dressed differently than usual. But it wouldn't have stopped me from recognizing her even if I hadn't caught a whiff of her scent.

<< Hello >> she says calmly after hesitating for a moment.

Compared to her usual nightclub look, today she flaunts a charming and elegant outfit.

She wears an elegant beige jacket over all her clothes, underneath which she has a cream-colored top. Below, a long white, almost blue, skirt, along with elegant women's shoes that reveal beige woolen socks.