🅹🆄🅳🆈
Rain is now softly falling and I am standing at the window, watching Isabella as she cleans up glasses and plates. She is humming a melody to herself that reminds me a lot of her doorbell.
"What song is that?"
She doesn't look up at me as she wipes the coffee table with a wet cloth.
"It's not a song. It's The Moldau by Smetana. Do you like classical music?"
"Not really."
"Usually, me neither, I prefer Jazz. Would you like tea? Or coffee?"
Watching Isabella cleaning is fascinating.
When you first meet her you might be blinded by the elegance and expensive clothes. But behind that attire is just a regular woman.
I already knew that of course but right now, in the calm and quiet of the night, she looks different to me.
Apart from the moon shining through the glass and the table lamp next to the sofa, the room is dark. Yet she radiates light.
"No, thanks. Do you need help?"
