A little secret walks down the streets,
Red as dawn,
Obscure as mist.
Little secret that lurks the shadows of the back,
Remain hidden from the eye,
So you…
…
So you…
19 listened the woman react frustrated to the unfinished poem, it didn’t matter, 19 liked what 19 heard. A bit childish, it might be a nursery rhyme for kids it thought. 19 hoped it was a kind, kid loving woman, kind women were the best type of women according to 19. They are usually tender and a bit sweet.
19 looked around the corner and there she was. She was sitting near the small kitchen, fiddling with a notepad and a pencil. She was thin and slim of face, made her look a healthy but not athletic type of woman. That was good since athletic women tended to be a bit too irony. 19 liked what it saw, 19 liked it a lot.
The woman stood up frustrated leaving the pencil on the table. She was wearing yoga pants and a sleeveless shirt. She looked good in the eyes of 19. She seemed to be in her perfect age, between twenty-five and thirty years old. Like a fruit that has reached the period where it is at its ideal point of ripeness to be pluck and eaten.
She poured herself a glass of water. 19 got excited. 19 began to let the mist go in. The woman didn’t notice the mist until 19 was behind her. The woman turned around, after that there was faint slash.
Dinner was served.
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