Chapter Forty

The Love Letter

I watched her sit on the blue painted metal armchair, and it was funny how she always lifted her feet a little above the floor and positioned them on top of a metal stick used to support the legs of the armchair, seldom did she allow her feet to touch the floor.

And she will place her elbow on top of her armchair desk, with her hand on her chin catching her face. She will look at her notebook and sometimes scribble her pen on it. She often rests her chin on her hand whenever she writes, reads, thinks or draws something in her notebook, I think.

She wears a white polo made of a very thin fabric, so that from here I can see her white undershirt. And lovely how her long, straight and healthy black hair falls without fault on her back.

I watched her turn her head at the back row, where I was seated, and then she would smile, she always smiled. And when she smiles, she is very pretty, and little did she know how she drives me crazy.

Her name is Irina Sanchez, my high