“I think I’m afraid of people,” she whispered. And just how fast they change.”
She was afraid to meet my eyes, I could tell.
“I’m So tired of feeling like a stranger!”
Her voice and eyes begged to be understood- just once.
“But maybe it’s because I’m a dreamer that illusions find me. It’s always the same.”
The break in her voice said more than an entire encyclopedia could ever say. I watched her, as the moonlight kissed her hair.
“And maybe, it’s because I’m a writer that a dreamer can stir up such mad, unrelenting, burning passion in me.”
For the first time in years, she allowed her eyes to meet another man’s.