You know why

She was sitting next to him. They were looking across the room at another table.
He was scruffy and wild, the two rings he wore on his thumb and middle finger told the tale of his ancestry. His black eyes hid the scars of a life he never chose.
She tought that she knew him too well for someone she didn't quite know.
They were looking at her date, the nice looking fellow, who was now chatting with her best friend.
'He's not the right man for you, you know.' He told her moving absent-mindedly the guitar pick through his fingers. 'He's got troubled eyes. He will hurt you.'
She looked at him from a distance: 'I have troubled eyes too'.
'No. You have... you have chaos in your eyes. Like the Universe at the beginning of time. It's not the same thing.'
His Slavic accent mixed with a slightly imperfect English made him even more shadowy, but his look betrayed the kindness in his heart.
'You are a bright star fixed in the sky, while he is just a cold comet going astray. He doesn't know what he wants. Don't let his debris dim your light. You know I'm right.'
She turned to look at him: 'Why are you so sure, and why do you think I know?'
He returned her gaze and she felt the warmth of it hitting her bones.
As she looked into his eyes, like an unforgiving mirror, they showed her all the lies she had been telling herself for years.
He simply told her: 'I could tell you or I could not, it doesn't really matter, because you know why.'

K.G.
www.aphorism.it/katia_guido/
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