He said where do you live at the moment we met at the side of the road. It was a windy evening yet he only wore a navy shirt with black trousers. His hair... Oh his hair was something extraordinary. Silk probably got jealous by how it shone when the light of dim street lamp fell right on top of his head. I could guarantee you that it was maybe the softest hair ever. It fell gloriously on his forehead and neck as if inviting me to feel and grip it. I never saw hair as golden as he had. That night was the brightest night in my life. We walked together and talked about how the weather could not be predicted and how the stars had not yet to come. We talked animatedly among honking cars, yellowish mapple trees, and cool breeze. At least until the junction over there.
YOU ARE READING
Unfinished Stories
AcakSome tales are not meant to be finished. Even the complete ones are hiding some unknown future.
