The Room
This text has almost 4 years... my excuses :-)
When they met for the first time, Paul knew immediately that they would be good friends. She looked angry that day, as if something that always goes wrong had gone wrong, once again. The look in her face told Paul something about despair. 'Can I help you?' he asked. 'Forget about me', she replied, and continued biting her nails. Now Paul was not all that sure about their future chances.
'Could you just tell me what's wrong?' Paul was surprised. He never thought he could say something like that, with such a sweet tone, after an answer like the girl's. She looked at him with a furious expression, and after a few seconds of tense silence, she broke down into tears: 'I can't find it…' she cried.
The hotel corridor they were in looked now cold and inappropriate for the situation. 'Would you like to come into my room?' She looked at him. She was not angry anymore. Sadness was painted in her eyes, and Paul felt sad too. The room looked grey and impersonal, as all hotel rooms normally do. Perhaps they were comfortable, but they were definitely not warm, thought Paul. Not a "Home, sweet Home", you know. The girl walked shyly into the place and sat on the bed, fragile and beautiful; like porcelain. Paul did not know what to say first. Maybe a simple "what's your name?" would work… That's it.
'Wh… what's your name?'
'Mary.'
'Well, nice to meet you Mary -said Paul calmly. And what's that thing you've missed?’
She looked down and smiled.
'My heart.'
When they met for the first time, Paul knew immediately that they would be good friends. She looked angry that day, as if something that always goes wrong had gone wrong, once again. The look in her face told Paul something about despair. 'Can I help you?' he asked. 'Forget about me', she replied, and continued biting her nails. Now Paul was not all that sure about their future chances.
'Could you just tell me what's wrong?' Paul was surprised. He never thought he could say something like that, with such a sweet tone, after an answer like the girl's. She looked at him with a furious expression, and after a few seconds of tense silence, she broke down into tears: 'I can't find it…' she cried.
The hotel corridor they were in looked now cold and inappropriate for the situation. 'Would you like to come into my room?' She looked at him. She was not angry anymore. Sadness was painted in her eyes, and Paul felt sad too. The room looked grey and impersonal, as all hotel rooms normally do. Perhaps they were comfortable, but they were definitely not warm, thought Paul. Not a "Home, sweet Home", you know. The girl walked shyly into the place and sat on the bed, fragile and beautiful; like porcelain. Paul did not know what to say first. Maybe a simple "what's your name?" would work… That's it.
'Wh… what's your name?'
'Mary.'
'Well, nice to meet you Mary -said Paul calmly. And what's that thing you've missed?’
She looked down and smiled.
'My heart.'
posted by Jorge | 12:38 PM
4 Comments:
Just wonderful ending, although maybe too much "ñoño" for me, you know... But wonderful anyway.
Love,
Sara
It's from my Ñoño Period (I have periods, likke the great ones).
XD
I love ÑoÑo stories :)
Of course I liked that one. Too ñoño...i like it haha
mua!
Hahahahahhah, Ñoño Period, hahahahahahahaha. I also had ñoño period, and it was terrible (maybe because I was 15 or 16...), I hate it!
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