12 It was her!

Her auburn hair was bright, shiny, turning red and it fell on each side of her face in heavy curls which were perfectly rounded. Her skin was clear, transparent, with a texture similar to silk. I recognized the hand which I had seen in the dream; the same hand which currently typed at a hellish velocity on a laptop keyboard. Her cheeks were delicately colored in a pink that only my sharp eyes could perceive.

I was enthralled by her and a kind of strange fascination had drawn me to lean on her table while knowing that I might, with each millionth of a second spent in her proximity, no longer have the strength to move away. She drew me like a magnet. Her eyes were still lowered, and I was unable to meet them. I had the impression of floating, a prisoner of her aroma and I could not detach myself. I pulled off the table with pain and my teeth chattered. She did not see my ordeal, or my torture. My distress was indifferent to her.

Good!

I had the audacity to continue. I regained my cool. I made the last step firmly.

I felt surer of myself.

Finally I let myself fall into the chair. I had to stay close to her. I had to control myself and resist the temptation. I would never be able to do that if I left now. I had to endure her amazing scent.

A phone rang on the left. Shrill music pierced my eardrums and I wanted somebody answer it.

Make it stop!

A mobile phone! I ground my teeth. Someone was calling me. And this ring, this song, made me angry!

Finally, the call was answered.

A bewitching voice invaded my ears. The voice came from nearby, and it was hers.

"Yes! Hi, Vera, how are you?"

Had I said there was a mystery to solve? Not anymore. All was forgotten. I felt like an animal. My predator instincts had returned and I did not remember having tracked down such aroma before.

"I am on the terrace. Yes, I know we have a test tomorrow in the Restoration Techniques of Old Master's Paintings course. Exactly, that's why I'm here," she continued, her left hand typing on a keyboard while her scent prevented me from thinking.

Her skin had the appearance of parchment; it was nearly transparent, and so white...

"My Internet is down at home. Yes. A power outage. Last time it took them four days just to push a button and reboot the modem," she laughed and her breath burned me even more.

Yes, I must resist, I have to understand that this is a priority— I said to myself.

"You bet! They didn't know where it was." She kept looking at her laptop, pointing at a sentence on the screen.

I watched her every movement, never missing a detail. I gluttonously breathed the air around me, hoping it could seal the enormous black hole left in my chest by her aroma.

"Yes, tomorrow after the test. Me too, I no longer have... Hmm, I do not know yet. I will listen to my instinct, as usual, you know. Even for that, yes."

Listen to her instinct!

Not a very human statement, more like an animal. She laughed and waved her hand in her hair. Then she rubbed her eyelids as if they ached.

What was she doing? Was she crazy? Doesn't she realize that she is in the path of the wind?

"No, I don't know if I'll go see a movie. Why? You want to go? I'm almost done and I will go home. Yes, that's it," she replied and turned off the phone.

The conversation was over and she put her phone on the table next to her laptop. I stared at the vast river as black as ink before my eyes. My eyes closed for a moment. I saw myself leaping off the bridge and drowning myself. The Seine, at least, would it welcome me? Could I drown myself in the water any deeper than into her scent? My hands clung to each other to prevent me from reaching out to her, from grabbing her and running away. My two arms fell with force on the table and crushed the ashtray with a sharp sound which went unnoticed, even though the terrace was packed.

She did not notice me! She didn't turn her head even once! It didn't bother her that I listened to her phone conversation.

I was of no interest to her. What interest could she have for me? I am a pseudo-human, a ruthless character out of a scary story.

Surely she does not talk to strangers...

What if I showed myself as a gentleman?

Suddenly, she stood up. Her laptop was already in her backpack, like all her affairs which were previously spread out on the table. Her hands were so skilled and so swift. I watched her again as she placed the bag on the table. Then she tried to fix her hair by pulling it backwards and twisting it into a bun which quickly untied. It fell right back to the way it had been before. Her head was now leaning back and her eyes were closed. They reopened and a sigh escaped from her perfectly drawn lips. She picked up the bag and put the strap over her shoulder. A belated ray of sunshine lit up her face. Her eyes had an imperceptible spark and I was caught in the trap of her gray eyes.

The laughter of my dream came to my mind, and a shiver ran through me. Her eyes lingered on me for a second, and then for another. They pierced me with their beauty, their inquisitive nature trying to understand my wild glance. I saw my reflection in her eyes which began to change suddenly under my gaze. Her heart seemed to panic and her cheeks went from a milky white to scarlet. She was surprised that I stared so long. What did she see, looking at me? Did she see my strange and distant appearance, my wild look? My thoughts were scattered.

She was going to leave and I had to follow her, I thought. I came out of my enchantment with a bound when she turned her back.

I must follow her! Quickly!

She went into the Artist's Café at a high rate of speed. To the restroom, I suppose, like all the girls. I will wait. I did not follow her.

"Why like all the girls? You do not know any girls," my conscience awoke.

She came out quickly, keeping her receipt in her hand. She stuffed it in the back pocket of her jeans, while continuing to walk with a firm step.

Ah, I see now! She is going directly home.

"So what? You're going to follow her? You can't do that," said my old conscience.