David grew dizzy with the girl in front of him, the dialect she spoke sometimes made him feel like an impromptu translator, who had to—forced to understand what she was saying. "So how can I go back to my time?" the girl asked.
David kept staring at the strange girl, until he forgot that they were still at the door and he didn't let her in.
It was a very good welcome for a guest, luckily the girl didn't make fun of him.
Or rather not at all. "I don't know, but it's weird. How did you get here? Total eclipse? I'm still confused by everything you said, I was asleep, suddenly after I woke up, I saw a sketch that I drew had been completed into a complete picture, while I don't know when I made it. What really happened?"
"You won't let me in? My legs are sore, my butt hurts, can I rest? Now I'm like a lost human, I don't know where this is, and why I was thrown 207 years later, this is crazy!" Bertha—the girl introduced herself.
David invited Bertha in and rested in his house. What is on his mind now, what will the girl do, should take her home, but where?
David lay down on his sofa bed, his eyes staring at the ceiling. David pulled up a chair, leaned closer to the side of the sofa bed, it seemed he was itching and couldn't bear to ask more.
But before he could ask much, Bertha's eyes were closed, she was fast asleep.
David took a deep breath, got up from the chair, and walked back to his desk. He stared at the sketch in front of him, why did the sketch on his laptop look like Bertha's?
His gaze shifted from the sketch to Bertha's face. True, the sketch was indeed a sketch similar to Bertha's. But, he didn't intend to sketch a woman, so who finished his sketch at will?
"What really happened?" asked David alone.
Not expecting an answer, because he knew, no one would be able to explain what was going on.
David adjusted the position of his glasses, brought his face closer to the monitor screen, his index finger pointing at the picture. He sighed then shook his head.
He wanted to disbelieve everything he thought was a coincidence, but the real evidence was in his house, fast asleep.
And David didn't know what to do with the uninvited girl.
...
Clarisa, five minutes after the total lunar eclipse.
Fondamente Nove, 30122, Venice, Italy.
Suddenly the figure of the girl who had been standing on the Rialto Bridge, is now among the rows of passengers. She stood between the rows. Frustrated and bored, she retreated, dispersing among them.
Clarisa—a girl who more closely resembled the figure of a young man with a statue above the average girl of her age. She glanced at the line of several young girls—under her age—looking up at her. The gaze once again annoyed her.
"What happened just now? When I thought I wanted to get rid of the fatigue I felt, my body turned transparent and now…, back to how it used to be? At that moment, I felt something push into my body. And, what is this?" she asked herself.
Clarisa walked away from the crowd. She stepped—across the old buildings around her. She took out a pack of cigarettes still filled with 6 sticks, took one and lit it. Clarisa continued to walk down each small alley, where on each side of the aisle there were various kinds of shops.
Today, she didn't come to work, her mind was messed up. Like wanting to die! That's how she felt since morning. Her parents had a fight. Again! And he doesn't know how long he's going to have to face a very boring monotonous life.
"Hey, young girl! You don't want to try these fruits? Your face looks like a stressed person, it seems that by trying these fruits, at least you will feel refreshed," said a fat old man sitting in front of his small stall.
He handed an orange that looked very tantalizing—to Clarisa who coincidentally passed in front of him.
"Alex, I'm a grown girl and I'm not sulking. At least give me something more than these very sweet oranges, or I'll get diabetes," Clarisa replied.
Apparently they know each other. Alex—the fat old man laughed, very crisply, as if Clarisa had said something very funny just now. The bulging belly, sagging, swayed up and down as Alex laughed.
"Don't laugh. There's something strange about my body, and I don't understand what it is," Clarisa said once again, then slowly walked over to Alex.
She tilted her head, looked left and right, then whispered, "Suddenly my body disappeared, like a mist." Alex looks amazed.
Either he believed everything Clarisa said, or just changed his expression to please Clarisa. Nobody knows.
The fat man shuffled off the bench, then stood up. He put his arm around Clarisa's shoulders and led her into her little stall.
"Come in first, your mother is waiting inside. At least give her a warm kiss, because you haven't been here in weeks to see her. You are too busy taking care of your work, and forget that you still have a sickly mother, whom I married a few years ago since her divorce from your father. Come on."
"Oh, my God. How's mom? Alex, I believe you can take care of my mom, so I let her marry you. You know, in two days I'm flying to New York, there's work there. I was ordered to investigate a case."
"What case?"
"A serial murder case, and until now they haven't found the killer. Actually, I don't want to accept a transfer to that country. But, considering there's no point in me being here, fighting every day with my dad, it would drive me crazy. I might kill him, and this will turn me into a demon, sooner or later. I'd better distance myself," Clarisa answered quietly.
Her eyeballs were played, turned upwards, her lips pursed, and Clarisa reached for a large jar of candies of various colors—picked up some and unwrapped them and ate them.
"This murder case is strange, the victims die with dried up bodies, as if their bodies never had blood. Their faces are pitiful. After committing a murder, the perpetrator always leaves a symbol on the bodies of the unfortunate victims." Clarisa shuddered, horrified at the thought of what had happened to the victims she had seen through the photos.
"Oh. Why did you have to go?"
"I turned myself in for this case. And they agreed, I had to go undercover, lest anyone know who I was. According to news from the headquarters in New York, the perpetrator of the murder was an Italian citizen. The criminal escaped and I, in collaboration with the New York police, were asked to fully investigate this matter. I'm confused, but I can't refuse orders." Clarisa lowered her voice, afraid that even the nearby walls could hear.
"I'm taking care of mom. Alex, I trust you. If something happens to me later, don't tell mom the truth."
Clarisa and Alex didn't realize that someone was listening to their conversation.
The walls did not only hear but also convey the message that Clarisa said to Alex.
A middle-aged woman looks sad, she leans against the wall, her eyes are glassy, one hand touches her chest, exhales heavily, feels tightness in her chest.
"I didn't recognize you earlier, you changed. Who cut your long hair, to make it short like a man?" asked Alex.
Holding back a small laugh. Alex indeed had time to look at the face of the little girl he had loved since she was 9 years old, now a teenager, and growing up in the midst of the harshness of life.
"You look very handsome," said Alex. This time he couldn't hold back his laughter, Alex laughed out loud like he had watched a live comedy broadcast in front of him. And this irritated Clarisa a little.
"Okay, I'm leaving. Mom is resting, isn't she? Take good care of mom. I love you, Alex."
"Yeah, he's resting. I hope she's still fast asleep and doesn't have time to hear our conversation. I'll make up a story, if you don't have time to visit because you're busy. I wouldn't say you're going to New York." Alex smiled happily, showing a row of white teeth that were lined up neatly.
Clarisa turned around, and staggered toward the door. For some reason, she felt that after this, her life would be more difficult. She paused for a moment, then turned her head slightly, "I love you, Alex."