Jenny’s pov

“Jenny…”

I quickly turn to the direction of the voice that had called my name. I know that voice and I know it well! I can’t tell whether she says my name questioningly, matter-of-factly or longingly but then again I could never tell exactly what she meant from just her voice’s inflection. I often thought it was because of her accent but night after night of recollections and thoughts about her I’ve have come to realize it’s just because of her. She is unreadable.

She was always careful not to show too much emotion, not to become vulnerable as I had. There were times when she slipped up though. Times when I could have sworn that I had seen the anguish that had been residing in her soul overfill and pour out of her eyes. It was heartbreaking and then it was gone and her calm persona was back before I could even analyze the change of emotion.

She is still a mystery to me. Always has been and most likely always will be so there is no use in psychoanalyzing her. I look deep into the eyes of the woman who had called my name so emotionlessly.

“Marina…” I say, using the same tone she had said my name in.