She was asleep; she forced herself to be that way.
He was always forcefully awake, and he was exhausted.

Her eyes were always sad, even when she smiled.
He hid his behind sunglasses.

Silk, cashmere, and profound perfumes were always there for her.
He smelled like a man; he was burning…

She was never supposed to meet him.
He was never supposed to meet her.
They met…

He looked at her.
He had a strong grip.

She looked at him.
She was happy that he was not her type.

Different, polar opposites.
Yet she was a mirror for him,
and he was a mirror for her.

She liked sitting close to him.
He didn’t mind.

The wind was promising the end of spring.
The trees embraced the air with their gentle scent.
The walk was supposed to be spiritual.

The ocean was there for them.
He wanted her lips.
She wanted his.
And it happened…

“Let’s go.”

She followed.

The lights were celebrating the night.
His lips against her lips.
She looked at the walkway; it looked completely different.

It was a cold night for everyone
except them.

She left; she feared the fire.
He woke her up.

They disappeared the next day.
They never existed.

He had his life.
She had hers.