20 Am I strange?

I kept my eyes on hers, concentrating on her unformulated questions, and trying to ignore the pretty color her cheeks had taken.

"Go ahead," I begged her.

I let her pass the porch first. I behaved like a gentleman, as I had promised myself.

She raised her head and blushed, her eyes wide. Was something wrong with my expression?

"What is it?" she asked, blushing more.

"Dream Water."

"I knew you would realize it!" she said, and her teeth began to bite her lower lip.

"Yes! A very good choice! Indeed." I said without thinking. "Do you regret the choice?"

Her mouth opened, but no sound came out. She swallowed and looked down. Her shoulders slumped but then she straightened and with a tremor in her voice, she continued.

"No. I found it quite, umm..."

I understood that she had difficulty admitting her attraction to this scent and I interrupted her: "It suits you marvelously, believe me."

I stared at the street. I took another breath through my teeth and grimaced. I looked at the girl again, impressed by the overwhelming and devastating effect she produced with her incredible charm on me. I understood the reaction of Alex. She was not just pretty, but extraordinary!

Her face was beautiful and interesting. It was symmetrical; her thin nose was exactly in the middle of her narrow cheekbones. Her skin was gracefully combined with the sparkling mahogany shimmer of her hair. But above all, there were her enigmatic eyes which suddenly landed on me. I returned her gaze, trying to pull out even one of her mysteries. I stared, fascinated as she smiled, looking a little embarrassed.

"Goodbye sunshine, eh?" I said, watching the cloudy sky.

The clouds, indeed, were piled up and rain began to fall. This banal and boring subject of conversation should do the trick for beginners. She looked at me full of doubts.

"Yes," she said, surprising me again.

I kept the conversation harmless. I was hoping, deep down, that she loved sunny warm spots - even if her skin seemed to prove otherwise. I thought that in spite of her pallor, perhaps she didn't find the heat uncomfortable.

"Do you like the sun?" I asked with hope.

"Yes, and the warm summer rain," she added with a smile.

"You must hardly endure the gloomy weather of Paris, then."

Perhaps you love the rain forest, or the sea, or whatever you will discover with me.

However, I was not sure that this was what I really wanted. I knew I could never forget her, and if she just disappeared, her existence would remain forever a mystery to me - a dream. An eternal puzzle unsolved.

"You can't imagine how much," she said in a low voice, glancing at the dark around her. Her answers were never what I expected, but they gave me the desire to know more about her.

"Have you come here to settle down?" she asked, and then realized in the next moment that the tone was too direct for a casual conversation.

The question seemed rude, intrusive, but I liked it. I began to intrigue her, and that made me smile.

"Why?"

"Mm... Your accent is slightly different... Not that... How do you say? There is something in you that is very different from others, I do not know really explain it, maybe."

Did she have the ability be able to sense the tiny details that set us abnormal people apart from normal people? I shuddered, thinking she could find - or feel - more about me than I wanted.

"It's complex," I said.

She blinked her beautiful eyes. Leaving the conversation in this state, I felt her about to explode with curiosity, and she wasn't the only one. Indeed, I realized it was getting a little easier with her by my side. In fact, I felt that over time, it would be agony to be without her. "I would succeed," she said as she insisted on holding my gaze.

"Succeed?" I repeated, and I looked at her, curious.

"To understand," she continued, smiling.

Perhaps the simple courtesy of my answers would push her to respond to my questions. It would appear quite spontaneous for me to begin asking my questions. She stared at her sneakers silently while walking. That made me impatient. I would have liked to take my hand and gently rotate her head toward me and read her eyes. But that would be silly of me - and dangerous.

It was too early.

She raised her eyes suddenly. It was a relief to see myself reflected in her eyes again. She spoke hastily. "What's your name? I am..."

"Alma, I know." I cut off her sentence, abruptly.

"How?" she asked with a trembling voice.

She did not know that I already knew her name. I laughed gently. I looked at her as if I was discovering her for the first time. A sad smile took shape on my lips.

"How could I forget…," I stopped and continued the sentence in my head, ... even once, your first name? Yet I couldn't voice those words! It was too soon! I would scare her. "It's not a secret to me." I coughed, embarrassed. A blunder!

This confession proved to her that she had become the focus of my attention. "No, apparently," she replied, shaking her head slightly. Her expression - if I deciphered correctly - was divided between discomfort and upheaval. Her skin turned pinker. I pretended not to notice.

"N... no—" I stammered awkwardly, looking away. I began to realize that her answer meant that I had made a mistake. I was suddenly very embarrassed. She had found the flaw very quickly. She was insightful! But there was something else. Something much more problematic than all the assumptions she could make about me. I tried to explain myself. "I have a good memory, that's all."

The sadness drowned her clear eyes and a small wrinkle appeared between her eyebrows. She seemed suddenly lost. She took a few seconds to react.

"Yes, that's it."

"Estrange, my name is Estrange. It seems rather strange." Ah, it was quite easy to understand.

"No. Not at all! And that suits you! It's you!"

Her change in attitude and expression was amazing. As if the sun reappeared after the passage of a huge rain cloud.

"Really?"

"Yes. You're strange, in your own way, with your feline style, and your cat green eyes. You're in." She ended the phrase with a laugh.

"Fashionable?"