The first part is here.
Isn’t it weird how when we look at old photos or watch old videos with us in them we could no longer identify with our old selves? It seems like those persons have totally different bodies and consciousness, separate from what we have now. Maybe that’s what actually happens, maybe we create completely new versions of us all the time.
This sad young woman in front of me is someone I don’t know.
Her face is familiar, yes, but I don’t know who she is at her core. I don’t know what she wants. I don’t know what she’s thinking of or how she thinks. I don’t know how to approach her at all.
I’m just here sitting in my lavender couch across the room from her. She’s still standing in front of my side table. Sometimes, she comes by the window and looks at a distance. Then she’ll go back to her chosen spot and looks at the floor again.
She glanced at the bed and looked at me for the first time.
“Who sleeps here?”, She asked.
“I do.” I responded, surprised at how calm my voice sounded.
“And who do you sleep with?”, she retaliated, her eyes focused on mine and her brows curled in scrutiny.
This attitude, for some reason, irritated me. So I said, “Really, it’s none of your business. Who the hell are you, anyway, and who gave you the right to crash into my place?”
She looked away. She looked at a distance outside the window again.
I wanted to provoke her so I pressed on, “You know you shouldn’t be here. That’s a violation of the law. What do you want?”
She squinted at me and with a low voice she replied, “I’m looking for someone. Don’t pretend you don’t know who.”