Dear Stranger,
I’ve been feeling lost in this city. The smiles were scarce and their words were too cold that I almost felt like I entered a door to winter. I was ready to leave as soon as I arrived, and then you happened.
A supposed few drinks turned to hours deep into conversations. Traffic lights turned into constellations, we traced those street lams like marks on a treasure map.
(When I asked you what you’ll name this street if you were its king, you answered “Rue des Etoiles”)
I remember craving, I remember getting a bit scared.
And by my front door, I remember asking if you wanted to come in for a cup of coffee.
That was my first lie, I didn’t have any coffee.
