On her usual walk to the office, she saw the same young man who was selling flowers on the footpath staring at her. She started seeing the young man on the footpath for the past few days. His rude wild look scared her. That mysterious look of his, like that of a bloodthirsty murderer or someone who was disturbed by lust, gave her a sense of worry.
She realized he was only looking at her face. He does not look anywhere else. That's why she was afraid of that look.
"Why are you still looking at me like this? This look is not dignified. Women will be intimidated by this wild expression and look." One day she told him.
"This face scares me." He said immediately.
"Reason?"
"That's a story. That cannot be revealed here. If you want to know that, you can come to my house."
"I don't want to know that, and I'm not coming to your house," she said angrily.
"But it's a funny story. You are the heroine of that story."
"Anyway, I'm not interested in that story of yours. If you look at me like this again, I will react differently." Her voice rose.
"Why should you walk in front of me, scaring me?"
"How did I scare you?"
"If you want to know that, you should come to my house."
"Tell me here, how did I scare you?"
"There is nothing to say about it. A picture is to be shown. It's in my house."
That evening she accompanied him to his house.
"Come on." He called her into his bedroom.
"Where is that picture?" She looked at him suspiciously.
"I am calling you to see it.
"Bring it here."
"That's not a small picture to carry. It is a large portrait hanging on the wall." Seeing her doubt, he continued. "Come, the picture will be a sight that amazes you."
She walked into the room with him.
There she saw a portrait hanging on the wall. As he said, the image stunned her. She glared at it.
"Doesn't this picture amaze you? This is what I drew. Isn't the face in that picture like your beautiful face?" He asked.
"Indeed, only a slight difference. I don't have this much big eyes, that's all, the rest of everything else is correct." Surprised, she turned to face him. "Who is this?"
"My wife."
"And where is she?"
"Not alive now. Died a few months ago, no I killed."
She stared at him speechless. He continued with a chuckle as he saw fear fill her eyes. "I wasn't kidding. I killed her because she left me and went with someone else. I was living for her. So I couldn't bear that betrayal. So I became her killer and put a curtain on my love for her. Love also has a face, the face of wildness, and ruthlessness. Then love will give the kiss of death. The poet who sang that love is a fragrant flower is a fool or he doesn't know about love. Love is the light of bliss and the darkness of mystery. It can be a kiss of comfort as well as an ember of resentment that burns us at times. The mind is an enigma, an enigma of mystery, so all the thoughts and feelings form there is a problem that cannot be defined by man. We dream, because dreams are what drives us. But those colorful dreams we see turn into hopes and disappointments that shake us. Those feelings lead us in different ways. Thus we become both saints and sinners."
She didn't answer and looked at him in fear. He laughed at that look.
"I hate this face so much." He said pointing to the picture on the wall. "So this story does not end here. It is said that there are seven like one person on this earth. When I saw you, I realized that it was true. I saw someone like her in those seven. There are six more people to meet. My life is for them. If I can kill those seven people, I will be the luckiest person in the world." He came towards her. "Darling, let me give you a kiss of pure love. Love is a kind of madness, a state of senseless. That's why it sometimes takes a knife instead of a flower. "
He took the knife. The wildness of love rang out as a laugh.