Metamorphosis-1. Sensation of the Woman

I can take another step into the vacant space – and be very close to it. Forward – my Rocinante. We are waiting for accomplishment and glory…

The fact is that I was wearing dark glasses. Yesterday’s celebration of Petrovich’s birthday ended in full accordance with Russian traditions – a drunken scuffle. No – I have nothing against it. We parted in a friendly manner, but I decided to hide my swimming eye for the time being from prying eyes. A foreigner with a swimming eye – may cause extra attention. This is completely useless to me.

I’ve rarely been to Russia, but if I’m arriving, then with my friends, we «come off to the fullest.» So it seems to be said here.

A curl draw attention…

We were butchered by some 2—3 decimeters. I could already smell her perfume.

What was it? I don’t know for sure, but the aroma of jasmine and something else was clearly felt…

I could not clearly see her face, only the outline was clearly visible. This is the nose, and this is the lips, and the line of the chin smoothly turning into the line of the neck…

Standing a little behind her and grabbing my hand on the same bar that she was holding on to, I could see some other gleam on her arm. Felts rings – felts ring. It does not matter.

She, apparently having felt my close attention or gaze, turned to me, studied me with a study and said:

«Is it not dark for you with these glasses?»

Of course, I understood the question, no matter how bad my Russian language would be, but I didn’t catch the intonation for some reason. Was it – a proactive question to prevent possible attempts to make contact, or – she was really interested in the strangeness of the passenger in the dark subway car – in sunglasses. Unclear.

And only now I saw that in her other hand was a book that she had been reading all this time. That is why she did not move from her place and did not turn her head around.

But what to answer? How to behave?

Not waiting for an answer – she turned back to her book. Unhooking the hand for a moment from the handrail above the head – easily, correcting it, made a gesture to push the curl out of the hairstyle – back into the hairstyle. Or – under a hat? I could not make out.

But nothing came of her. Curl – stubbornly returned to his place, teasing my attention and playing with me – only he knows the game.

«My eye is broken.» I am ashamed. I hid it.

The only thing that I could answer. Since the conversation should continue. I was given a clear signal – the woman emphasized with her correction that she was a woman. And it was a reaction to my appearance. Consequently – the book interests her already much less than someone’s attention.

Aboard!

She certainly heard my terrible accent. My stretch rr. And even if she does not understand the shades of the sound of the French language when pronouncing Russian words, then my answer – in any case, should encourage her to continue the dialogue.

– Frenchman with a broken eye! What – a jealous husband, I decided to spoil your vision so that you never again saw his wife?

She slammed the book and turned to me with the whole body, obviously – with a wide smile on her face, she said.

I could not help but answer.

«What are you reading?»

Having reached out and turning her palm with the book towards him, I decided not to joke with a joke, but to try to further reduce the distance between us.

Jasmine – of course jasmine was in the perfume. But here…

Some extremely delicate aroma, still mixed with the smell of jasmine. What is this?

Lipstick?

No – I caught this taste of a rose right away. Only lipstick can smell like that, and it’s fresh, apparently applied to the lips just before entering the subway.

Who are you?

Student reading a textbook?

Young wife – whiled away minutes between a house and a store reading a female romance?

Both – could have smeared their lips before joining the «society» of fellow travelers from the subway. But why jasmine?

She allowed to draw her hand with the book almost to my glasses, but I still did not see anything.

Shaking my head in the negative, I said:

«Can you read me this author?»

– Hm.

I heard a sound, a smile hidden from my sight.

– Francoise de Sagan.

She read, as if for an examiner.

Yeah! Caught a witch.

You are not a student or a spouse rushing for family care. You – read French female prose and speak with a Frenchman in dark glasses and a hidden smashed eye…

I realized that this shade of smell mixed with jasmine and rose.

This is fleur de oranges, shampoo or body milk.

Yes. We are admirers of all French…

I won’t be surprised if she had in her head is not a hat but a gavrosh.

And if someone says that fate does not exist, then I can ask – by what miracle did we meet here?

– I’m out.

Suddenly I heard. Where am I going out? Why – go out?

A…

This is her stop.