And then, even if it was the case, he would never think that it was her. And what importance, it did not have some for him, it will never have some.
The young woman went to sit down again on a long chair with the white chipped paint to admire the splendid panorama which extended in front of her in this so heavy and hot evening when she felt a presence behind her. She didn't have to turn around because her whole body told her who was there. But that didn't stop her from jumping up and turning around. He was there, as she sensed, more handsome and majestic than ever, wearing a casual outfit, yellow shirt rolled up to the elbows, and blue jeans that molded his muscular thighs with elegance, finished with royal blue suede loafers, an ensemble that showed off the king that he was. He changed his watch to the flat one, in white gold.
"Hello Ariadne."
"Hello," she answered in a voice she couldn't describe.
"Still as beautiful as I see it."
