Autumn

She was an angel girl She was an angelic girl with green eyes, dark hair, and a world-changing presence. When she smiled, people who were desperate and lost lit up a spark. It gave them hope, showed them the way and a good light. She’s a girl who paints pictures. Her views on life are wise, and she understands more than her peers. How old is she? Only eighteen years old. She is fond of reading poetry, and she gives wisdom to everyone with her thoughts. If you come to her, then the heart becomes easier. She is a girl who radiates light inside herself, even though she prefers to wear dark clothes outside. She’s a girl who likes rain, even though she’s the sun in her own right. She is a girl who cries bitterly at night, and gives warmth and soul to others. She never shows how much it hurts her, and always puts on a radiant warm smile, gives hope, takes the thread of life and stitches up wounds. Looking into her eyes, you feel like you’re on another planet, in the paradise from which she was sent. And no one knows how bad she gets. No one knows how she feeds on the pain of sad souls and moves it into the universe, choking on her tears. Everyone is used to how bright it is, to the fact that it is like air, like the sun, without which it is impossible to live. When she dies, everyone will know about her death at once. She will leave as quietly as she came. She will be missed. And even those who were against it will understand that it is the meaning of everyone’s life. She doesn’t live for herself, but for others. She loves everyone but herself. It is not the first time she has lived and will come back when it is needed. And everyone will feel the joy of her return. She’s an angel girl, and she knows it. Resort tango She’s wearing a dress that shows off everything you can and can’t do, snow-white curls falling from her shoulders, and red lipstick perfectly matches her blue eyes. She walks across the room in small stilettos and takes a seat at the back table. Today is her last night at the hotel, where she came to heal her nerves. Her eyes flick from side to side, searching for one cute waiter. He always stood out from the rest. He had long hair, slightly curly at the ends, which he kept tied in a tight ponytail, and brown eyes that were the shade of coffee. The waiter didn’t take long. As soon as the lady sat down at the table and sat there for less than a minute, he came over to her. They were at ease. As if they didn’t know each other. No one in the audience even suspected that the two of them were secretly meeting under the deep cover of night and spending time together, forgetting about everything in the world. And if anyone wanted to take a closer look at them, they would surely see the spark between the two young people. — What will you drink?” “A quiet, simple question. The lady curled her lips into a half-smile, remembering how the man across from her had kissed them last night. - Water. She speaks slowly, but her voice still says, " You, I want you.” - of course. He nodded and walked briskly toward the bar. She smoothed back a stray lock of hair and bit her lip, fighting the urge to turn to look after the man. The waiter returned quickly. He put a bottle of water on the table, unscrewed the cap, and poured her a glass of crystal-clear liquid. The lady thanked him and ordered. They didn’t talk, just looked at each other, but it was enough for her that today he was serving the table where she would spend the next couple of hours. The lady ate slowly, calling her waiter frequently. She looked down the menu and asked too many questions about each dish. But they both knew she was doing it on purpose. After all, she wanted him to pay as much attention to her as possible that evening. But due to the lack of other waiters, he has to take on a couple more tables and take orders there, as well as be on hand to clean up dirty dishes. She watches him scurry around the tables, giving a beaming smile to the other guests, and thinks she wants to be alone with him. In the wine file, the lady finds one interesting wine, aged for ten years, and decides to try it. She calls the waiter, asks about this variety in more detail, and is satisfied with communicating with him. The waiter takes her order and after a while carries a bottle of dark green, emerald-like glass. He sets the glass in front of her, opens the wine himself, and the rich burgundy liquid flows down the transparent walls. He asks her what she wants next, then rips a sheet out of his notebook, hands it to her, gives her a brief smile, and hurries to another table where they’re already waiting for pizza. The lady opens a folded sheet of paper and reads what she has written to herself: “I will be waiting for you at the entrance, near the stairs after my working day.” Her heart is fluttering with excitement. And the food no longer seems so delicious, now her appetite is directed to the future of spending time with him. The girl still forces herself to finish the last course and drink a couple more glasses of tart wine. Her head is spinning, but she doesn’t feel drunk. She feels elated and tries to catch the waiter’s eye. And it does the same thing. Every time he passes by her table, he looks back. His eyes are bright, and she knows he’s looking forward to a beautiful night, too. After finishing the last course, the lady decides to fix the evening with dessert. She is attracted to ice cream and strong coffee. The evening quickly turns into night. The last guests disperse, and the girl also gets up from her seat. She walks towards the entrance from the stairwell, and she is slightly pounding from an overabundance of feelings. About ten minutes pass, and finally a young man who has changed from a waiter’s uniform to casual clothes joins her, immediately draping a light jacket over her shoulders. It didn’t quite match her evening dress, but she didn’t care. — Would you like to take a walk to the sea?” He asks softly, and she gets goose bumps when his lips barely touch the tip of her right ear. “I do. “No,” she breathes. And they go to the sea to the melody of the waves, to the sound of the surf. She holds his arm and tells him about her day. And in response, he talks about his own affairs. They take a long walk along the coastline, enjoying the sea air, inhaling the aroma of salt water. — This is my last night here. She says, and the sentence sounds very sad. — I know. He answers no less ruefully. Their eyes meet, and they understand each other without words. They walk away from the sea and go to her room, where they make love all night under the stars and moon. Her last night here. Tomorrow she would leave this place, go back to her own country, and they would never meet again. What she doesn’t know yet is that he’s thinking of following her. After all, they gave each other the love and happiness they both needed.