Cet amour-là

"Elle dit: non, ne pleurez pas, ce n'est pas triste, en rien, en aucun cas. Il s'agit de vous et de pas vous, oubliez votre personne, ça n'a aucune importance. Il ne faut pas se prendre pour un héros. Vous êtes rien. C'est ce qui me plaît. Restez comme ça. Ne changez pas. Restez. On va lire ensemble."

Yann Andréa

18.57.13

I'm not sure about the destination. The speed of the bus and the amount of alcohol in his blood: he fell on her his eyes looking at her from below. Something with the glasses he was wearing and the way he was wearing them made it worse. She couldn't understand most of the stuff he said and the people surrounding them were listening, judging, glad it was her and not them but curious to hear in order to have something to say back home. I think you should do whatever you want to. Be yourself. His eyes on her flesh, she could feel them. Just like she could smell the cheap wine and cigarettes in his mouth when he breathed. You should be yourself and stop hiding. I know you're hiding it's obvious you're hiding something you're not yourself. I always know stuff like that. The bus turned and he fell again. Sorry he said. I'm sorry. They always are. I need to go home I want to go home. I was with friends you see. Look at me. The book in one hand and the phone in the other. The memory. As if the monster could follow her. Lost souls lend their flesh in exchange for seconds of freedom. They don't care about what happens when they're gone. How costful their freedom is. Who pays. Would you mind telling the girls behind how beautiful they are. He would never leave her, never. I mean. Sorry. Would you like to come and have a drink with me. We could talk, you're charming. I like your face. The dry tears in her empty eyes. Sorry.

He got up and moved his feet and didn't fall on the ground but his feet didn't lead him to the open door they twisted his way and instead heading for the exit his body turned and he stoped in front of a lady dressed in black. You want a drink. Beautiful.

The bus shut the doors and started moving. He cried. He pressed buttons and cried. Out I want out now.

And he left.

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