sâmbătă, 21 iulie 2012

Not right


   "They always looked better before than after", the lawyer thought looking at her, dressing. "But still so beautiful..."
   - Don't stare at me like that, you know I don't like it. Plus, you didn't pay for this too, joked she.
   - I'll tip you extra next time.
   - Can you help me with my dress?
   - Gladly! "I think this is my favorite moment", he spoke silently. "When I can look at your hair falling on your shoulders without worrying you'll leave me in that instant. And only after I move your hair so that it won't get stuck in the zipper".
   - Please hurry, said she and he closed the zipper in one slow move. And tell me what do you think of when you stare at me like that.
   - I'd rather not...
   - Please! If you tell me I'll let you stare from now on.
   - I think of different things. But in French, you make me think in French.
   - Why French, asked she while grabbing her purse.
   - I don't know, maybe you look like someone that I saw in France and that I liked. The thing is that it always seems to me that you look and move like a beautiful French woman, like a French woman would naturally do.
   - How do you call me the French in your thoughts?
   - La pute qui rêve avec moi.
   - What does it mean?
   - It means the beauty that dreams with me.
   - I dream?
   - No, actually you dream along with me. I am the first dreamer.
   - And what do we dream about?
   - We dream that I've won the lottery or found a case full of money or that I got a really big contract. And that we'll use the money to travel for the rest of our life. Until we get sick of travelling and we decide to settle down and have children. But first we dream of travelling to Paris. 
   - That would be nice. She was standing.
   - Can't you stay longer? I would like for you just to stay a bit more with me.
   - I can't, I have other clients to see. Next time you can book me longer, continued she. Au revoir! Did I said it right?
   - Yes, you did. Au revoir, said he. And she went out, leaving him to contemplate the empty room and the echo of the clinch from the front door.

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