I could not resist taking in her simple black dress, knowing very well that later that night I would be reliving every moment I spent with her.
“I can’t go to sleep. And honestly, I’m going a little crazy all by myself,” she admitted.
“It’s better if they don’t know that you have more energy now.”
“Yes, I suppose.”
“How did you manage to avoid taking the medicine?”
“I... Sally doesn’t always check if I take it or not. She just leaves it with my breakfast.”
I offered her my arm, and she took it. Her soft, delicate fingers landed on my forearm and even that simple touch lit a fire in my chest.
“What do you like to read?” I asked.
“I don’t know. I can’t remember what I like to read. Although, sometimes I seem to know that I might enjoy something even before I try it,” she confessed.
In spite of the dim light from the hall, I could detect a faint blush painting her cheeks.
“You may need to try several things.”
“That’s just it. I was... wondering if... maybe you could tell me more about me?” she hesitated.
“What would you like to know?”
“What’s my favorite food?”
“You like everything sweet and love strawberries.”
“What books do I like to read?”
“You’ll read almost anything, but you love poetry.”
“What is my favorite color?”
It took me a while, because I was not sure, and at last I looked back at her.
“Warm shades of pink.”
She was quiet until we arrived at the library door that was carved with intricate skill. I pushed it open and held it for Alina. She stepped into the moonlit room and stilled, looking around at all the rows of books that went as high as the ceiling.
“I only wanted to find something to read, but I confess, I don’t know where to start,” she said in a soft voice. Then she turned away, examining the shelves.
I was still just watching her while she walked through the rows. Her delicate fingers brushed the spines of the old books. Suddenly, she stopped and pulled out a heavy tome.
“It’s strange. I had thought that men don’t like women who love to read.”
“Why?”
“Not sure.” She bit her lip and turned away. “I suppose you don’t have similar ideas?” she asked.
“No.”
Again she sighed, and returned to the long display of titles.
“I finished the book you gave me.”
“Did you?”
