His darkness
Not fifteen minutes had passed when the devil walked in.
My eyes met his cold brown ones, and I immediately regretted it when the image of last night came to mind.
Neither of us said a word, and I continued my breakfast, pretending he wasn't there. He wore a pair of black jeans that hang loosely around his hips, a black shirt with rolled-up sleeves, and a black Adidas.
What was this, the national black day? It suited him; though I assure you, his soul was darker still.
"You'll get cold in that," He walked toward me and stuffed one of my strawberries into his mouth. A delicious smell consumed my nostrils. His perfume.
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