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Looking through the window of her apartment, Dwane watched the woman trying to work at her laptop, pausing at intervals to rest her forehead in her hands, almost sensing her frustration. Her glasses suit her very well. At last, she got up and walked over to where her dog laid asleep, taking her glasses off on the way and rubbing her eyes. Sitting down on a comfortable looking chair, she smiled at her sleeping canine. He wished he could do the same, at his home, with his family or his friends, not spending any thought to miseries like the one he was in. He felt like being caught between a rock and a hard place, on the one hand not wanting to disturb her normal life, just like he once had that day, cause he could understand what it would be like for her, on the other hand having been searching so desperately, so hard, so long, for any way to escape his situation. So I won’t have any choice. He sighed. Nevertheless, she’s the only hope I have. I must try, however much I’d like to leave her in peace. He rested his brow on his arms.
When he looked through the window some time later again, her living room was dark and she (Stella, yes, that was her name), had gone, probably to bed. He waited a little, then put his hand at the wall of her apartment. Knowing from prior experience that walls couldn’t stop him, he went into her living room. Her dog was also gone, probably with her. Her taste of décor was simple and functional, yet one had to admit that she had style. Having seen enough, he went on, looking for her sleeping room. Finally, he found her, fast asleep, curled up on her bed beside her pet. Again, just like before, it noticed his presence, lifting its head and staring at the exact place where he stood, growling silently. He moved closer to her bed, causing her dog to jump off and trudge out of her room. Dwane came to a halt beside her, just watching her breathe evenly for a while. She slept with her hand tucked under her cheek, one of her feet looking out from under her blanket. He found himself oddly fascinated by her slim, beautiful hands, her narrow feet, her smooth hair. He could have stood and watched for hours without growing tired of doing so. Oh, little one, I wish so much you could help me. When she sighed in her sleep, a strand of blond hair fell over her face, so he kneeled down and reached out to stroke it out of the way tenderly. Something seemed strange about it. It didn’t sink in at first, but then it struck him, hard: he could touch her and move her hair. He couldn’t believe it, thinking that maybe he was hallucinating. He tried again, at first startled, then enjoying the sensations of touching her hair, feeling its being alive. It has been so long… A light scent teased his nose, a little like wild roses. It was the scent of her hair. He was that concentrated on feeling and memorizing those sensations that, when she murmured something in her sleep and moved, he was so startled that he outright jumped back, almost falling onto his backside. He became even more nervous when he sensed her waking up, not wanting to frighten her again. While he was reflecting on what to do now, she suddenly opened her eyes and sat up, looking around. “Hello, is there someone?” He drew back quickly, almost overwhelmed by her confusion and her fear. Hold it, why am I feeling this? He had never been very empathic, so what did this mean?
He’d have to find out another time. Returning to her living room, he decided to stay on her sofa until he would find a way to communicate with her. There had to be one.