Face for Smiling
"Did anyone ever tell you, that you don't have a face meant for smiling?"
Spørger manden, selv med et smil, skjult bag et sindrigt mønster af rynker.
"No...cant say that," siger jeg, usikker på om jeg skal tage det som en fornærmelse.
"Don't get me wrong," Han holder afvægrende hænderne op foran sig.
"You are a very beautyful girl. Your face have a rare, silent mystique. A sort of melancholy.
But it was never meant for smiling."
Jeg nikker fraværende. Og ryger endnu en bane på sølvpapiret...