I looked at her back as she pushed her way out of my small flat. It was the most beautiful thing I saw this week.
My week had been an endless battle between stale coffee, angry customers, unlit cigarettes and endless crumbs on the floor.
Her back, in the act of leaving me, was the most beautiful thing I saw this week.
I should have ran to her and told her that … knowing well enough that she and only she will understand. She would have smiled at me and kissed me lightly or gently ran her fingers on my locks.
But I did not.
How could I ruin the only beautiful thing I saw this week?