Young at Heart (Angelina Jolie)

Chapter One: Stranger

Here I am, sitting on my own at Starbucks, thinking about my monotonous life. I'm a hell of an actress with a hell of a busy life, yet I have time to feel sorry for myself.

How dare you, Angelina? I think to myself as I lead the cup of coffee to my lips, and I sigh after drinking just a bit of it.

It's been two years.

Two years since I've finally got my freedom. If I wanted that so much, how come I feel so miserable?

I keep myself busy enough reading some UN papers about Syrian refugees and how I could possibly help them somehow. Then I suddenly start thinking about the past two years and how I've had so much to deal with since I've got divorced. It's been also a while since I last saw Brad, but he was always there for the kids.

It's really funny to be here, trying to be useful in so many unuseful ways. First off, I'm drinking coffee when I could be somewhere else with people who really need my help. But, no. I'm drinking coffee on my own - not that I'd need company just to have a cup of coffee. Would I?

Two terrifying years.

My kids are growing up. Maddox is studying in South Korea and Pax is about to start college too, which leaves me with four out of my six kids. And soon they would all be full grown and I'd be definitely on my own.

Oh, gosh! Does this really have to happen to me?

And now I can't read the papers. I feel my eyes filling with tears, but this is not time to cry. I lead my already cold coffee once again to my lips as I start to look around me. Some people were with their phones in hands, probably taking pictures of me, which I totally understand since I'm an actress. But there was this girl, gapping at me with those dark-brown eyes. I had no idea what she was seeing in me.

Once I keep staring her back, she looks around so she doesn't have to face me. That was probably too embarrassing for her, and also for me.

I couldn't help myself seeing how beautiful she was. She has those different traces like she had a little of every nationality around the world. She had a very long curly brown hair, and Beyonce's skin color, which made me find her ever more beautiful. She had almond eyes, which made things really interesting for me.

What a peculiar lady!

I smile even knowing she's not looking at me. It doesn't feel right to keep staring at her like this. I mean, it's more than obvious that she's half my age. I suddenly feel guilty just for noticing her beauty.

Back to my papers, I wonder when the countries around the world will be finally open for receiving refugees. When I get used to my readings, I realize the girl is staring at me again. This is getting out of my control. I was really willing to concentrate on really important things and not to think of my miserable life, but I had a girl curiously staring at me - and not the way the other people in that place were. She was somehow different from all those people who were taking pictures of me.

Who are you, girl? I just wonder. Do I really want to get an answer for that question that's running through my mind? Do I?

Well, why the hell not?

Since I know it's going to be impossible to concentrate on something that isn't that girl, I decide to do something crazy, almost reckless. I just drop the papers back to my table and walk firmly to hers. And something happens.

I've got my eyes on her and she's got hers on me. She gives me one of those looks that transmits a lot of feelings. I could tell she was all scared, curious, surprised and even fascinated by my presence. And I was only trying to look good.