He was walking down that dark corridor again. Where was he? And why was everything so small, so damn small?

He found himself in the living room, that familia small room again. A cosy, bright room. Again the same plush carpet under his feet, he looks at it but can't catch the colour, it's light, no, some kind of cream or maybe green, he's not sure, he can't remember. Everything was blurry. There is a strange fog in front of his eyes. He forces himself to look up, there are large bookshelves in front of him, littered with books and various knick-knacks. He stands, and looks at the decor of the room, wondering why he's here, what's going to happen next.

And then there was a voice. A gentle and melodious voice. Almost angelic. He didn't know what the song was, but it seemed both familiar and melancholy at the same time. It was simply beautiful. He turned towards the source of the voice, following it, letting it envelop him and beckon him after it.

It was her again. Tender, innocent, so beautiful. Singing for him, just for him.

How long had he been watching her? He didn't know the answer to his question, and yet through the strange fog of oblivion, he tried to remember every detail about her. She was standing with her back turned to him, which gave him an incredible view of her hair, her golden, short-cropped hair. Was there such a colour in nature at all. Probably only angels had it. Was she an angel? Perhaps.

He wanted to go over, wanted to touch that hair, it was obviously as soft to the touch as it looked. But he couldn't move, he stood still, as if spellbound.

He was only allowed to watch.

He wanted to say something, to call out to her, but his lips wouldn't move, as if glued together. He tried again, to no avail.

But at that very moment she turned round, clearly sensing his presence, as if she had caught his impulse towards her. Here she was looking at him with her big eyes, expressing all the warmth hidden in her. They say that looks kill, but not this one, it was as if it gave him life.

She was glowing from the inside out.

I wondered if touching her would leave a golden imprint on his skin.

Suddenly she was right in front of him. Standing so close. He felt her presence so fiercely, with his whole gut. The smell of cherries filled everything around him. So sweet. She was so sweet. Her hand rose as if in slow motion, like a swan flapping its wing, and just as gracefully, fell on his cheek. The touch was divine, as soft as a ray of sunshine. She smiled at him, and he smiled back at her.

"Georg," from her lips, his name sounded like a prayer. She spoke almost a whisper, almost a moan. Could he ever hope to hear someone say his name so sweetly again?

Everything else didn't matter then, it was just her. He wanted desperately to touch her, to kiss her, to corrupt her in every way he knew how. Wondered what she would be like in his arms. How he wanted to know that, but he couldn't move. Something seemed to be holding him back, preventing him from touching her even for a second.

"Georg," she repeated more insistently, her hand moving over his face, and he felt every touch all over his body. The tips of her slender fingers traced a trail from his cheekbone, travelled down his nose, and finally stopped at his lips. She gently traced the contour of them, as if exploring him and giving him brief moments of pleasure.

Bittersweet torture.

"Georg," she repeated for the third time, her voice becoming demanding, she was clearly waiting for him to act, how could he refuse her, how could he not give her pleasure. He thought he was going to die, and yet his hands were still clasped at his sides, unable to move.

She kept looking at him, and he thought he would drown in her eyes, he wished he could. To let her absorb herself completely. She slowly moved closer to his face, a moment more and their lips would have to touch. He wondered what she tasted like. She was so close, he could feel her breath, another moment and...

"Daddy, wake up, wake up, wake up," every word was accompanied by the shaking of his head from side to side.

Jesus, where is he, who is he, what time is it?

Daddyyyyyyyyyyyyyy," Marta's insistent voice, of course it was Marta, and her impatient childish hands, very strong for her tender age, took over and Georg had no choice but to open his eyes.

"Honey, hasn't anyone ever told you that people don't really like to be woken up so insistently," he tried to sound menacing, but because he had just woken up and because he still had to squint against the sunlight, he obviously wouldn't have the effect he expected.

His daughter studied him for a while as if weighing his words, "but I wanted you to wake up."

He sighed heavily, running his palm over his face in a desperate attempt to regain consciousness. He turned his head to the bedside table, 7.30am, so early. Okay, something had to be done, Marta was clearly not going to be able to sleep anymore, she was too excited, she needed to be soothed immediately. I wonder, Georg thought, if everyone else was awake too, or if they were still asleep.

Maria woke up late, by late she meant noon. She'd never been much of a sleepyhead, but she always allowed herself to snuggle in bed on her day off, and today was no exception.

She was in a great mood when she woke up, she couldn't remember what she had dreamt, but she was sure it had been a nice peaceful dream. Quickly tidying herself up, she headed for the kitchen. It was going to be a great day, they would finally meet Christine, she would finally tell her about Georg. Georg, that name brought an almost childish smile to her face.

Making coffee and spreading butter on bread, wondering if it was still breakfast or lunch, she thought to herself as she hummed to herself. The words came into her head, and she couldn't resist, just let the music flow out of her.

Things in her life were slowly getting better, not so long ago she started looking for a job in teaching again. If all went well, she would start with tutoring, she could easily teach young children language, maths, music and a range of other general education subjects. Miss Martins, the employment agent, told her that with her CV, she could easily find herself something. That's when things would start afresh, a fresh start.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of her mobile phone. An unknown number was calling.

Her heart started to pound a little faster, could it be him? Well, who else would be calling her. It was him, definitely him. She swallowed hard, okay, just act calm, there was nothing supernatural about it:

"Hello!"

She sounded more excited than she'd hoped.

At first she was met with a ringing silence, and after a moment, a familiar voice came through the receiver. But it wasn't Georg, no. It was her aunt. How did she even have her number. The conversation was short, very awkward, mostly they had just arranged to meet at some restaurant in the centre, Maria had never been there, and after today's meeting she was sure she would never go there again.

What was her aunt doing in Salzburg? Why did she want to meet her now?

For a while Maria just stood there, staring at the plate on the table, her appetite gone.

When her parents died, Maria was only 10, she was sent to live with her mother's brother and his wife. Johannes and Sofia lived in a small flat in Vienna. They had no children of their own. She was grateful that she had not been sent to an orphanage, and yet she did not understand why they had agreed to take her in. It had been a mystery to Maria for years, until she had learnt from the children at school that a child like her was entitled to a payment from the state. Of that money, as you can guess, she didn't see it, but she knew exactly who was getting it. She had never felt welcome, much less loved, in their home, so it made some sense to her.

It's been six years since they last saw each other. Not a single call, not a single greeting card, nothing, and then, out of the blue, she was asked to meet today. Something told her it wasn't a good thing, her stomach twisted and a familiar ache began to run through her temples.

"Are you coming?"

They had been talking for half an hour, Maria felt the phone getting warmer and warmer under her ear, and her palm was sticky. She put the phone on speakerphone and rested it on her bent knee.

"I think so, I kind of already said yes."

Maria nervously ran her fingers over the beads on her bracelet, she hadn't taken it off since she got it yesterday.

"Are you sure you should, I think..."

"Yeah, well, his not...well, it'll just be the two of us, and honestly, I don't know, we're related, you know."

Maria heard a snort in response.

"I don't think this is going to last long, and then you'll come and see me, won't you?"

It sounded kind of pathetic, like she was looking and needing support. She was, of course, but she didn't want to admit it to herself. She ran her hand nervously through her hair.

"Sure, at 7 at your house, and Maria, don't worry, if you don't want to go, no one will blame you, you hear."

"Yeah, yeah, okay, see you soon."

"Dad, why are you leaving again?" Marta sounded terribly frustrated, picking at her dessert with a fork. They were having chocolate pudding today, Kurt had found a new recipe, the boy really did have a talent.

"To visit your girlfriend Elsa again?" Louisa's voice sounded shrill and snide, everyone turned their heads in her direction at once.

"As a matter of fact, yes, Louisa" he tried to sound calm, giving his daughter a smile that hinted at her to stop this conversation.

"What about Maria?" Gretel's question sounded so innocent, he couldn't help but smile, "she's your girlfriend too, isn't she?"

"Ahem, yes, she's my friend, Gretl, but I think I'm going to meet her today," he smiled at his youngest daughter.

Georg grinned, remembering the dialogue he had had with the children just before going out today. If it had been up to him, he would have stayed home tonight. This meeting with Elsa, like mostly all of their meetings, had been unplanned. And to be completely honest, he'd no longer wanted them to continue them.

They'd been sitting there for an hour now, Elsa chattering unrestrainedly, him nodding, occasionally issuing words such as: yes, sure, no, if you want.

"Georg, dear, about Christmas..." Elsa's voice was like smoke, heavy and thick, he always liked her voice.

He inwardly cringed at the question. She'd brought up the subject of looking like they were on Christmas holiday quite often. But that was natural for couples, wasn't it? You're not a couple, he reminded himself. Though, as awful as that sounded, he wasn't entirely sure of that himself. They were on a date, spending the evening together. And now, Georg realised, there were two outcomes to this evening: first, he would go to her, and second, he would go home. Either way he would feel strangely lonely.

I wondered how that evening had gone at Maria's. The thought came spontaneously, and yet he began to think about it. She was obviously sitting in her flat now, perhaps she was singing something he would give to hear her sing again.

"Georg," Elsa's voice cut into his consciousness.

"Yeah, is something wrong?"

"I said, do you want to order anything else?" She gracefully pointed at the menu in front of her with her index finger, he in turn only shook his head negatively.

They sat like that, an idle conversation, with Elsa mostly an active participant. She had once told him that he had the ability to run away from her even when it was just the two of them. She was right, he was hiding inside himself, going over things in his head, completely abstracted from everything that was going on.

He was doing it again, and he was ashamed, he didn't want to neglect her like that. It was only when he tried to focus on the words again that his world shook violently. Literally. It was something, someone to be exact, crashing into their desk. The impact wasn't hard, he would even say gentle. He looked up to see a small figure standing in front of him, an all too familiar figure wrapped in an all too familiar green coat. If his eyes could deceive him, his ears certainly could not, not when he heard that melodious, almost painful voice:

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to, I'm so sorry."

Maria entered the restaurant, there were plenty of empty seats, that was good, she almost immediately spotted a table near the wall, great, that's where she would go. As she took small, slow steps Maria couldn't help but notice the beautiful interior and atmosphere of the place.

The light was warm, making it look cosy, the walls lavishly decorated with pictures of nature in golden frames, the round tables covered with white, cleanly ironed tablecloths. You see, it's not so bad, a calm atmosphere is what you need now. Maria looked up slightly, chandeliers, pure crystal, so pompous, incredible, ouch...

Her thoughts were interrupted by crashing sideways into someone's table. If her initial reaction was pain, the next thing her eyes automatically widened, she so hoped she hadn't knocked anything over. The couple sitting there were just as dumbfounded by this as she was. Maria almost didn't feel her mouth open and words spilled out of it:

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to, I'm so sorry," she immediately met her gaze with a woman of almost aristocratic appearance.

She's so pretty, was Maria's only thought.

"It's nothing my dear," her voice was almost velvety, envelopingly soothing.

Maria smiled nervously, inwardly glad that she hadn't messed anything up and that she wouldn't get a cheque for a fabulous amount. She could only imagine what she would have gone through if things hadn't gone so smoothly.

That's when her eyes darted to the man who was silently watching the scene before him. She'd noticed him, but hadn't addressed him personally until that moment, standing half-turned toward him. She suddenly felt eerily awkward, she had clearly interrupted their date. Somehow she had to make up for what she had done, because of her carelessness and clumsiness. She suddenly got the idea to wish them both a good evening, and apologise again for the inconvenience. As soon as she turned her head toward the man, she was met by a pair of chilling blue eyes, staring at her with a look that was completely unclear to her.

It was all some kind of joke, her brain playing a wicked, ridiculous trick on her. It wasn't supposed to be like this. It couldn't be.

Georg. It was Georg.

He was sitting here on a date with someone, after yesterday...What had actually happened yesterday, he'd just walked her home, that's what a friend would do, I guess. As long as she stood there, needing to leave immediately, "I'm sorry," was all she could squeeze out of herself at that moment. He didn't say a word, just watched her clumsily turn around and quickly head towards a table in the far corner. She could feel his gaze on her back, burning holes in her as if he were physically inflicting pain and discomfort.

She got to the table faster than she thought she would, it was suddenly too stuffy, she needed to take off her coat, she needed to hide. It was only when she sat down at the chair and picked up the menu that she realised what a colossal mistake she had made. From where she was sitting she had a wonderful view of the table she had had the misfortune to crach in just a few minutes ago, and she could see it perfectly.

He looked at her askew, clearly not too pleased with the way she had chosen her location either. He didn't seem to mind, though, only glancing at her once and then back to his conversation with his companion.

Maria rubbed her hands, they tingled strangely. It was too much, and she wanted to crawl to the floor and dissolve into a puddle. No, she had to get another table, and just as she was about to get up when a familiar voice distracted her:

"I'm surprised you're not late."

It may have been a true comment but it still sounded kind of hurtful.

Maria looked up, she was looking at a woman in her fifties, her short brown hair was already grey and her face was hadn't changed much, Maria thought to herself, suddenly feeling small again under that gaze.

What the hell she was doing here.

Georg tried to look as natural as possible, but the urge to drink was inexorable. It was a parade of madness.

Why was he suddenly so worried about it, though. In fact, there was nothing wrong with him sitting here in the company of his...girlfriend.

In fact, the worries really was ridiculous, because he and Maria were strangers, well not really, they knew each other. But not so much that he was suddenly uncomfortable with her seeing him with someone. That's crazy, I shouldn't be reacting like that.

All right, man, calm down, she shouldn't distract you all night.

But he couldn't. The images from his dream, like ghosts, haunted him all day today, and just when he thought he was rid of them, those bright eyes appeared before him again. Here she was looking at him with her big eyes, expressing all the warmth hidden in her. They say that looks kill, but not this one, it was as if it gave him life.

He cast a quick glance in the direction she was sitting. He wanted to go over to her, wanted to hear her voice again. Elsa said something again, diverting his attention. He listened with half an ear, completely unaware of the direction their conversation had taken. Something more important was occupying his attention now.

Damn.

He needs to come round, he needs to focus.

Someone approached the table where she was sitting. An acquaintance, maybe a friend. He didn't know. In that moment, and he realised that as much as he didn't want to think otherwise, they were strangers to each other altogether. She knew almost nothing about him except that he had children, and he in turn only knew the place she worked and where she lived. All the information seemed simultaneously too much and too little. Just some intimate, small details of their lives that didn't make up the whole picture, but instead confused them even more.

No matter how hard he tried, all the way to his departure from that restaurant, he would throw glances in her direction, catching moments when she was too distracted to notice his piercing gaze.

For a couple of minutes Maria and her aunt just sat in silence, nobody wanted to talk, and there wasn't much to talk about. Maria's gaze darted from side to side, each time landing on the same table. He didn't seem to react to her at all, all his attention was focused on the woman in front of him, of course you saw her. Maria had never thought of herself as beautiful, maybe because no one had ever told her she was beautiful, maybe because she had seen men looking at other girls around her and never at her. But it was different now. She felt like the ugly duckling. It didn't help the way her aunt cast glances at her, examining and evaluating her.

At last their drinks were brought to them, Maria quickly grabbed her cup, as she took a large sip she heard her name being addressed, she looked up.

"How long ago did you get your haircut," the question was more formal, not that her aunt had ever cared about anything like that.

"Two years ago," Maria answered quietly, sipping coffee from her cup.

In truth, she hadn't eaten much, but she was afraid to sit there for an extra minute, as her aunt obviously was, so they made do with a cup of coffee and cold conversation.

"Your uncle is ill," there was a pause, "that's why he couldn't come today."

Maria thought it might be true, though Johannes was hardly keen to see his niece. "I'm sorry," she didn't know what else she could say, was she sorry, yes naturally she would be sorry for anyone who was ill.

Maria heard laughter from afar, her eyes involuntarily glanced in that direction, the dazzling woman was laughing at something Georg had told her, she tilted her head slightly and he was watching her intently. They looked like the perfect couple. she wondered if this woman was the key to the mysterious ring on his finger. More likely, she was clearly a match for him. Or maybe not, Maria didn't know what to believe right now. For some reason she desperately wanted him to look at her, and at the same moment she was afraid that he might do so.

Her fingers touched the beads on her bracelet almost automatically, going over them. She closed her eyes for a second; it was too much. Suddenly it was too noisy, too hot. She just wanted to get out of here as soon as possible. But her battles were over for today sadly she thought, hearing the next question:

"Are you working?" the words were strangely strained. They had nothing to talk about, Maria realised sadly.

She nodded politely, needing to keep the conversation going anyway, "mmm, yes."

Aunt Sofia nodded condescendingly, clearly unimpressed with her answer, "you have, eeeh, young man?"

The question made Maria wince. In the last meeting, it was the question of whether or not Maria had someone that had been the deciding factor in her needing to leave the place she lived in. She clenched her hands under the table, her palms clammy, "no," she lowered her head almost guiltily, trying to focus all her attention on the white tablecloth.

"Listen," aunt voice caught her attention again, "I wouldn't be here if there was someone else I could turn to," Maria almost had to suppress the snort that was about to burst out of her, "we need money, to pay off the loans, you're perfectly capable of paying at least half, God knows how much we've invested in you..."

This is it. That's why they're here today. Surely there was no other reason, if not money. She glanced at the table again, Georg rose from his seat, radiating ease and elegance, he was more relaxed than he had been at any encounter with her, so calm, so reserved, even from her seat Maria could recognise it. He held out his hand, helping the woman up from her seat, she said something and he grinned. The whole picture was like a scene from some film, and she was an background actor in it.

Her aunt kept saying something, but she didn't listen, continuing to stare off the trail of the two receding figures.

"How much?" said Maria sharply, deciding that if she finally found out the amount of her freedom for the day, she would be able to leave.

That's exactly what happened.

The journey home was difficult. The dark street is silent, only her soft footsteps can be heard. The strong wind embraces her, wrapping her tightly, almost lulling her, as if wanting to share the weight of her thoughts with her. When she got home and leaned her back against the door, she dialled Christina's number with her hands shaking, whether from cold, anger, or despair, Maria still didn't know what she was feeling at that moment.

She cried on her friend's lap for the rest of the evening: it had started with just a few words here and there. She didn't want to spill everything, she didn't want to, really, but the tears and the words poured from her like rain from an autumn cloud. She mourned everything, unable to stop herself. All the time Christine's gentle and firm hand ran through her hair, stroking gently and whispering to her: cry, cry Maria, let it all out.

And she did it.

But she didn't tell the most important thing. She never told who else she'd met today. She had promised herself that she would keep that name and face to herself as a secret, a secret only she could keep to herself. Even if it hurt inexplicably, she didn't want to share it with anyone else.

Hi, I want to thank everybody for warm words and comments, it means world to me. Time in nature and truth helps clear your head. That's what made it possible for me to finish this chapter earlier than I had planned. I also want to answer the questions that occasionally arise in the comments: I'm from Ukraine, and to put it mildly, it's not sugar here right now. But I think we are all used to it as much as possible. I've got lectures starting soon, and as my mum likes to say, busyness is the best medicine.

Okay, now for more enjoyable part, this story was actually born from this chapter, or rather, from the little moment where Maria sees Georg with Elsa, in the restaurant. They're so close and so far away. I love tense moments like that. Basically, the first couple of chapters were a build up to the more substantial part of the story, I don't know if if I was able to fully communicate what I had in mind, I'm not a writer, so forgive me my liberties)

Thanks again to everyone who reads this and follows the updates. As usual I apologise for any mistakes in the text.

I own nothing.