For the rest of the time we sat in silence, her face hiding in my jacket, my arm around her. When the metro slowed down for her stop, she looked up at...me. I felt a sting in my heart at the sight of her tears-covered face, the sadness in her eyes. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered again her face close to mine. She pressed her lips against mine for a moment and I tasted her salty tears on her lips. Then she pulled away and stood up. I looked at her as she walked away, her head bend down, not looking. I let her slip slowly onto the soft cushions of my big red reclyning chair. She really is beautiful, her wild blond hair frames her pretty face like a fire storm! The adrenalin-boost by the shock of our hefty collision must have relaxed her completely: she breathes calmly and regularely. She wears a loose purple university sweater and very sexy skin-tight pants - and there: her jeans are ripped open and her right knee is bleeding! I say: »Hey, hey, can you hear me!«, but the girl just stirs. More

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