2

Today, he was not very productive at work. In fact, he barely hid his annoyance, when the others tried to involve him in a new task, though he knew it was planned for, months before. He was irritated by his own inability to collect himself, after the last night talk with Christine. Part of him wanted never to see her again, to find proof she was staying home at night, where it was warm and safe for her. Another part was too impatient to finish work and to see her at the same place tonight.

He was furious, for the second part was the greater one.

Furious and ashamed. He had recognized his own loneliness in her eyes. These eyes so unbelievably alike his in every meaning. He could read her mind through those eyes, as clearly as if written on a paper. For a tenth time he wondered what was her family like, to let her out alone at that time. Or was she like most teens, not telling the truth to her parents. He had realized she was leaving every day exactly at 8:10 PM, that she was using the bank clock, to check for the time. He was careful not to show his observations. And how relieved he felt, when she took the pizza before leaving last night.

He wanted to believe she had taken a note of his words, that he would not find her there. But either way, he had to go and check. So instead of standing on the street this time he hid himself not far away and waited.

The man stood there for almost two hours and when the clock struck 9 PM he knew the answer.

He wanted to feel relieved, for she was off the streets and safe somewhere. He tried to imagine her happy, making dinner with her mother, or just merrily chattering with her in the warmth of their home. He kept telling himself this, as pain and desperation gained power in his chest. He haven't realized, he wanted to see her so much. The feeling of loss was so unexpected after just three brief meetings. It came to remind him of the emptiness in his soul. He had completely forgotten about it for the last few days and now it had returned with a triumph, and claimed ownership over his heart and soul once again. It was the familiar feeling of echo in a cavern for his soul was hollow, and pain and disappointment were its only residents. The last 20 years had brought him nothing but sadness and anger. And so much hate. The thoughts of Christine had erased the hate from his daily schedule. Now, while he was looking at the couples on the street, he felt hate flourish like a deceptively beautiful, deadly flower. For he was alone and knew he would remain that way. As every freak should. A freak unable to make his own family see behind the monstrosity of his existence. The last 10 years had proven him right in every sense. Right and lonely. He sighed deeply and went home where his dog and his piano were. He would play during the night, his work and mates be damned.

Hidden behind her door, Christine saw him come and hide. Why did he do that?. She knew he was right, about everything. After he had shown her, how easily he could corner her in the dark entrance she was using for a hiding place, Christine was convinced she should be more careful. With everybody. She was afraid that one day, she might not be so lucky. With the strangers on the street.

With her father as well. Christine knew, he would eventually find out she was sneaking out of the house during his favorite TV show. He would be furious about it and hit her. Maybe even in the face. He did that before, and it was ugly and painful and lasted more than a week. But she couldn't help it. After a month of looking and exploring, she had learned a lot about people and other things. And she discovered that shop full of rings with sparkling stones and necklaces and other shiny stuff, and once she saw a man buying earrings for a lady. And she looked quite happy, just like in the movies. Christine imagined herself in the shop in that lady's place. It was so wonderful. Christine knew, from the movies, that she had to find a man first. Then everything would be fine. But she didn't know how to pick him out. And there was something more, something scary about men, so scary her father always covered her eyes to protect her. But she had seen happy women with their men, so it can not be that bad. Probably it would not be as bad as that other thing. Then Christine thought about the tall man with brown eyes, and once again asked herself why he was hiding from her. She stayed in her place and waited for him to come out, wondering what it would be like to be with him, for instance. She would have to clean the house, to do laundry and cook lunch for certain. But she was doing these things now, already. May be, he would not forget to bring her dinner, like her father so often did. Christine knew her daddy was quite absent-minded and it was not his fault. She smiled to herself. Christine decided she was going to ask the tall man a few questions and then to decide if he would do.

All of a sudden, he went out of his hiding place and started walking towards her. When he came near, she saw his face and it frightened her more than anything before in her life. Like a walking nightmare he was dead pale, his eyes sunken deep and looking completely black. His hands deep into his pockets, his shoulders hunched. He was a picture of pain and desperation. Nothing remained from the strong, reserved but friendly gentleman from the previous night. This man was completely broken. Christine was staring with wide eyes, almost unable to breathe. His pain was captured in her eyes and slowly going to her heart. Oh, my God! What happened to him? Had his mother died? Christine had felt something similar, when her mother died after the car crash. She was seven, and she had experienced the pain through her father's eyes full with tears, his sobs and curses. She had felt the loneliness digging its strong roots in the heart of her daddy, changing him irreversibly.

Her dad. Christine looked at the clock, and realized she was in a much deeper trouble now. After the man passed her by, she came out and run, as if against the time itself.