Someone to talk, someone to understand

by morgan mayfair

This time in English. I hope there aren't too many faults in here; as you might see from my other stories, I'm no native speaker.

And after you read it, please review – you know, writers live of two things: inspiration and reflection.

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Tony stepped into another room of the mansion, trying to ignore the masses of gossiping people around him. How he hated to be here!

Why don't I just leave, he asked himself for the hundredth time, why don't I leave?

But he knew the answer already, of course. This was one of the things he did to be accepted as a normal person – to be some kind of a human person, and to be able to live properly in a human society. It didn't work, though.

He pressed his plate of biscuits and the glass of wine closer to himself and crossed the room on his way to the window. He simply didn't want to think about his job or the probability of being unemployed soon or what Kate would say - or Carol… no, he definitely didn't want to think about Carol right now.

As he reached the window, he saw that another person seemed to have had the same idea as him. It was a woman, wearing a long black cocktail dress and high pumps, sitting on the window-sill of the huge windows, looking absent-minded outside. Beside her stood a glass and a plate, quite similar to those he held himself. He wanted to turn around and go away to another direction, but it was too late, for she looked up as she noticed that someone had approached next to her. Her eyes were slightly puzzled, as if she had been deep in thoughts, as she noticed him. They were of bright green, he saw, as she looked up to him and their eyes met.

She smiled and said softly: 'Terrible party isn't it? I really hate to be here – but don't tell anyone, yes?'

Tony smiled back and nodded, answering both of her questions.

'Want to have a seat on the window-sill? When you are not on eye level with the others they don't seem to notice you that much, you know? That's why I sit here myself, I think.'

He sat down next to her, placed his plate and wine onto the sill and looked at her unsure. Certainly he wasn't in the mood to flirt, but he didn't want to be impolite, so he stayed. A bit of conversation couldn't do any harm, or could it?

As he thought about that, the woman in front of him took a biscuit from her plate and ate it.

'Bu de cake is preddy good, isn i?' She tried to say with her mouth full of biscuit.

He laughed, eating one himself. 'Yes, it is. But not worth this party.'

'You're so right. But where are my manners? My name's Amy Jenkins. I'm here on a visit from Edinburgh.'

'Tony Hill. Nice to meet you.' He shook her hand, felt the warmth of her skin and had the sudden sensation to have met a related mind.

'Hill? Wait a minute, I think I've read something about you. In the newspaper? Could that be? Something about a serial killer…'

He sighted. There it was: the moment in every conversation with new acquaintances, when they suddenly noticed who he was; that he was working for the police and all, and then their tone changed and they either withdrew from him or thought of him as some kind of curiosity. He considered both reactions disgusting.

But she reacted somehow different as he nodded slightly. She looked sad, in some way even worried.

'How terrible that must be, to cast a look into the mind of these people, seeing why they have done the things they did. What a burden that has to be.'

He stared at her, bewildered. This was something he hadn't expected.

'You think I don't know about things like that? I'm a psychologist myself, though only in a private clinic. I'd rather appreciate some kind of action – not much happening at our institute, you know? But… well, I think I couldn't cope with minds like that. Therapy them is hard enough, all right, but trying to catch them before they can take another life? Well…

'I only can admire you for doing so.'

She smiled at him again, but it was a sad smile this time.

'I should go now, I think. I wish you only the best.' And out of a sudden she raised her hand and stroked softly over his chin, like a butterfly on his skin it was there and gone before he realized what happened. Then she grabbed her plate and glass and got to her feet. Before he could turn around and stop her or say something, she had vanished between the crowds of guests.

Tony sat there motionless for a minute, staring at the place where she had been only seconds ago.

'And I thought this would be simply conversation', he muttered to himself, seized his glass and plate and got up himself. He shook his head and went away, searching for another place where he might be alone for a minute.

-end-