"Beauty is eternity contemplating itself in a mirror."
Kahlil Gibran.
1:15 p.m.,
Usually he was not sensitive to beauty. To her reflections which shone with fear and apprehension, scintillating with this deep greenish-brown pupils.
Her intoxicating forest of honeyed curls in the light of the sun were similar to indomitable golden threads, an added touch of aestheticism in her charming portrait.
He tried for a moment to analyze the origin of this feeling which was slowly taking hold. A hint of curiosity accompanied by the unknown.
As well as a certain familiarity, as if he knew her without really knowing her.
He scrutinazed her without even a glimpse of shame for intruding in her space.
Her fine and gentle face contrasted with her reckless gaze, abyss of so many experiences...without a doubt...Felix could recognize her fortitude in the face of difficulties.
Nor was she a Miss World, those who paraded their beauties in the hope of validation, nor the type to seek a man's attention.
No, if he had to describe the young women standing a few meters away from him, he would choose the qualifiers of independent, simple, and lively like a lively allegro.
She takes care of herself, but it's delicate, it remains discreet. She is careful.
His gaze dropped lower.
No extravagant skirts, no plunging pastel dresses, no big jewels, fancy objects and finery: light make-up, mouth between the fine and the luscious, light look.
She was dressed in the most sober colors, a not too warm white sleeved sweater, simple fitted black pants, and was barefoot. Something told him she had just changed by judging the creases in her pants.
Those thin rosy lips were tight in a pout. And her silence was that of the sea ready to break loose. He could feel it.
He approached the young beauty closer and closer , and he smiled: in spite of her distrustful air which was intended to be threatening, he discovered at the bottom of her eyes a reflection where a silent prayer could be read. And It amused him in a strange unbelieavable way.
-Who are you ? And what are you doing at my house?! she asked suddenly , animated by a fervent anger.
Felix smiled as he noticed she had crossed her arms. First gestures of comfort when a person felt fear.
There was a long silence where only the song of the birds was heard, in which Felix took pleasure in examining her more , then he launched in a serious and calm tone:
- A black coffee, without sugar please.
He asked for his favorite drink these days.
Not waiting for her answer, he settled down on the first sofa in the hall, looked at his watch then straight in her lovable eyes, a charming smile on the corner of his lips:
- Wwhat?! she stuttered, not having moved an inch.
- Is this your home?, he asked as naturally as possible, an innocent-sounding reply if we forget his offense.
-Yes? she scoffed a second time in a surprised tone.
- So it's just politeness to serve a guest who comes to your house first, before questioning him, Sí?
. . .
A man faced her. With a lively and sparkling look.
Her instincts had been right when she heard a slight noise coming from the entrance.
Still, she had made sure to close the door tightly, once Carlos the taxidriver had greeted her an hour earlier.
She had remained about ten minutes petrified with fear, her brush in her hand. And then, she had taken her courage in both hands and left her studio: in the patio with the ocher facades a man had been the cause of her erratic heartbeats.
In shock, she hadn't been able to move or speak, as if hypnotized by this imposing aura he gave off.
His face was handsome, symmetrical even, letting no emotions show through, manly marked by two large depressions running down his cheeks, his dark gaze shone with a strange glow under the light of the few rays of sunlight which managed to pierce the shade of the patio at the start of the afternoon. His hair was short, dark brown, swept back and silky shiny and his shoulders were impressively hidden by his long black coat that came down his legs.
Long black coat that must have been very expensive, couldn't help but think Maria...
Like a heavy and unbreathable gas, he seemed to be the only one in this room who was most comfortable there.
Maria crossed her arms as if it could help her find a solution to this strangest situation. Error on her part because the less ordinary man seemed to analyze this gesture with meticulousness.
The silence dragged on. it was getting thicker and thicker like her degree of panic which was only increasing, like a fog, a cluster of fine microscopic droplets reducing visibility on the surface. Thick and motionless. The man himself, stood still staring intently at her until finally he took a step closer and the inevitable occured: her mix emotions of anger and fear exploded.
-Who are you ? And what are you doing at my house?!
Faced with his reply she could see a smile on his lips. The latter was serious and without any trace of irony as if he expected this interjection from her. Then, with the most natural candidness, he settled down on one of the leather sofas a few meters from where he was standing.
- A black coffee, without sugar please, he murmured sweetly in a deep and cultured voice.
- What?! stammered the young woman, more and more confused.
- Is it your place? he asked as naturally as possible, an innocent-looking retort if one forgot his offense.
-Yes? she scoffed a second time in a surprised tone.
- So it's just politeness to serve a guest who comes to your house first, before questioning him, Sí? he finally said, crossing one leg over the other.
- I...uh...I'll call the...police.
It was only after uttering those few hesitant words that Maria realized how stupid she was, cursing herself inwardly.
Indeed, his retort was akin to telling a scammer that "stealing was wrong", or maybe worse...
-Oh you can call them if it makes you feel better. but just so you know the mexican police are much different than back home.
Maria swallowed.
- How did you know I'm not from here?
The young woman tried to gain her composure, and to go in the direction of the conversation, who knows probably she will come out unscathed, she thought, trying to gain time. It wasn't the firt time that the young women faced danger throughout the years as an investigate journalist. In fact, she had sometimes to aventure dark places in order to find a scoop,but something in her head told her that this time was different.
- Oh but it's very simple, you don't have to be a genius to know it: your two huge suitcases near the door and the fact that you only knew how to speak French.
- I see, she said cautiously, having, in shock, not at all realized that he spoke her language perfectly.
It was at this very moment that Maria noticed the vermilion red spot of his gold watch, and like a baby bird discovering the bars of an iron cage, locked up in its own prison, she paled a snowy whiteness in place of her face.
She had to do something. And quickly... "The bay window!" she thought suddenly, maybe if it wasn't high enough she would manage to jump over it and flee.
- Then a black coffee without sugar, she threw, feigning a smile that looked more like a grimace before trying to slip away to her workshop rather than the small kitchenette, hoping that her move would work.
The man was silent but his face darkened
-Isn't the kitchen in the other room?
It was time to act.
But the little bird had turned pale and the lion showed its incisors.