Unknown
Pt. II
"Well, YOU bumped into ME", he said, still smiling his supernatural, handsome (well, enough of that crap) smile.
I couldn't help it, suddenly I got angry as hell. Don't ask me why. I didn't know then. I swear I didn't. I said "You better watch your feet next time". Then I left.
When I left him standing there, walking away, sort of hastily, I couldn't believe I had been so dumb as to just get stinky and walk - almost RUN - away. I bit my tongue so hard, it almost began to bleed. I could've killed myself. What a rude bastard I was! But it was too late now. I couldn't turn around anymore. So I got home and sort of turned on the TV, but I couldn't focus my mind on what was happening in "Smallville" at all. Maybe I should've at least TRIED to strike a conversation with this guy. He didn't look much like an ignoramus... and his green eyes and black hair still captured my mind.
With a deep sigh, I turned off the stupid TV (ruins your brains anyway - who used to say that again?) and sort of raped the keyboard. I'm a lousy musician, I admit it. But still I don't want to give up. I can't read notes properly (and I'm too lazy to learn it), but I always sort of play my favorite songs, by ear. This time I tried My Chemical Romance's latest album, "The Black Parade" (sorry to the band, I'm damn sure I completely fucked it up, but I tried my best).
Suddenly the door bell rang. I sort of jumped in my chair, completely lost in my (efforts to) play all my beloved songs. At first, I didn't want to open the goddamn door - I'm pretty skeptical of strangers. I really am. But as the stupid thing rang for the second time, I remembered me playing the keyboard and I was pretty sure that whoever was standing outside my old door must have heard it and hence knew that I was home - unless it was some poor deaf guy. But I figured it wasn't. I mean, my chance would have been one in a million. So I got up and forced myself towards my apartment door (that never shuts properly - have I told you before?) and, taking a deep breath, opened it sort of fitfully, just as if my mind would change if I didn't.
Guess who was standing in the cold, fusty floor...
I couldn't help it, suddenly I got angry as hell. Don't ask me why. I didn't know then. I swear I didn't. I said "You better watch your feet next time". Then I left.
When I left him standing there, walking away, sort of hastily, I couldn't believe I had been so dumb as to just get stinky and walk - almost RUN - away. I bit my tongue so hard, it almost began to bleed. I could've killed myself. What a rude bastard I was! But it was too late now. I couldn't turn around anymore. So I got home and sort of turned on the TV, but I couldn't focus my mind on what was happening in "Smallville" at all. Maybe I should've at least TRIED to strike a conversation with this guy. He didn't look much like an ignoramus... and his green eyes and black hair still captured my mind.
With a deep sigh, I turned off the stupid TV (ruins your brains anyway - who used to say that again?) and sort of raped the keyboard. I'm a lousy musician, I admit it. But still I don't want to give up. I can't read notes properly (and I'm too lazy to learn it), but I always sort of play my favorite songs, by ear. This time I tried My Chemical Romance's latest album, "The Black Parade" (sorry to the band, I'm damn sure I completely fucked it up, but I tried my best).
Suddenly the door bell rang. I sort of jumped in my chair, completely lost in my (efforts to) play all my beloved songs. At first, I didn't want to open the goddamn door - I'm pretty skeptical of strangers. I really am. But as the stupid thing rang for the second time, I remembered me playing the keyboard and I was pretty sure that whoever was standing outside my old door must have heard it and hence knew that I was home - unless it was some poor deaf guy. But I figured it wasn't. I mean, my chance would have been one in a million. So I got up and forced myself towards my apartment door (that never shuts properly - have I told you before?) and, taking a deep breath, opened it sort of fitfully, just as if my mind would change if I didn't.
Guess who was standing in the cold, fusty floor...