Нужно, наверное, что-то глубокомысленное писать, но мысли всплыли.
So I was just coming home from whatever. Yeah, I know I'd better remember what it was, but there's no use to. It ended anyway. there was something, I don't know what exactly. Like a feeling, very close to that. Some premonition. I wish I could understand.
Windows, they were alll deserted. Nobody was looking out. Anyway. and all the train numbers had an 84 in them in this or that way. Always. Something strange? I thought it was not, but it was so repetative...
There was a girl I looked at, a very poretty one. She wasn't that pretty you would come around and stare at. she was simple, ordinary, I would say.
"She wears the tears on her blouse
confused and wrapped in self-doubt".
Placebo.
I was still looking at her. Science fiction was no longer science fiction. Music was noise. I was looking at her. I was...
Shyness is not the best word, but it's the first word that comes to my mind.
I came up and ...
I opught to write a book on probable "No" answers. It seems to me I specialize in that. Letting people say "No". Letting them slip away.
this time she said she wasn't in the mood of getting acquainted with a jerk. As simple as that. Pretty nice compared to "Fuck away".
Good.
Something broke inside and the tension loosened.
Science fiction was science fiction and music was music, but I closed the book and the Discman suddenly stopped. Battery over.
Battery over.
I came home.
She said, "If we ever meet, I'll say yes". If ever. Never. The same street, no chance to.
I'd rather let a car run over me.
I was just standing there, staring into my own window. From the street. Nobody was watching. Eyes widely shut. It is so high.
Headphones on.
You might atart screaming if you jump down.
You might even hear yourself.
I opened the door.