He looked good, remarkably good. There was something about him, something vital, animalistic, instinctive. Like his dark, intense eyes could see parts of reality that remained hidden to the rest of us.
Not that I liked him.
At one point we ended up at the same table in a restaurant and talked. Somehow the topic switched to romance.
‘Yes,’ he said.
‘Yes? So, you fell in love on the road?’ I asked.
‘Well, no’, he continued. ‘Someone fell in love with me.’
A short silence. ‘A woman. But I had not treated her differently, just normal.’
‘Basic friendliness,’ I said.
‘Yes.’ He took a sip from his beer. ‘And she still fell in love with me. Some people are so needy, they have to cling on to something.’
His eyes were prying into mine, searching if I was potentially one of those. One of those dependent people, waiting for an opportunity to latch myself on to an innocent passerby.
‘Sad,’ he concluded.