I look at him. I look at her tanned skin.
I look at her eyes. Own eyes looking at me from an eternity ....
The white shirt.
I look at her hair ... some white thread.
The clock is ticking for him. For me, no, not now. And what makes me sure of myself, definitely.
He smiles. You know what I think.
Why are you smiling?
Why search for explanations and answers in numbers, traffic signals and in my hair.
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