Chapter 3 – I Wrote A Poem That Described Her World

That night, Shane tossed and turned into her new, magnificent, European-style king-size bed, unable to fall asleep. There was something, in the kiss she had shared with Carmen, that still made her feel triumphant like the winner of an exhausting marathon.

When her lips had touched Carmen’s, Shane had felt something, deep inside her soul, something she didn’t dare to name. It was an unmistakable feeling of completeness, like being whole after centuries of emptiness and loneliness and self-separation. It had something to do with purity and innocence – terms that Shane had never had the chance to experiment thoroughly.

For a second, Shane had closed her eyes and had lost herself in the scent that enveloped Carmen – a strange mixture of oceanic breeze and fruits and flowers and spring, so different from the brooding, obscenely sexy and obscure nature that Shane always waved like a flag. For that split second, Shane had felt like in another universe, where things were good, where she was good, and everything had a sense.

What amazed Shane the most, was the insane, totally unpredictable skill that Carmen had demonstrated kissing her. Shane didn’t expect that.

As she turned in the bed for the umpteenth time that night, Shane realized that she had judged the book by its cover, just like those stupid chicks at the club. She hadn’t been any different, after all. She had thought that Carmen was too nerdy to be a good kisser and maybe

maybe

a part of her mind even thought that she had never been kissed, because Carmen wasn’t loud, she wasn’t attractive in a standardized way, she couldn’t be defined as smoking hot, she didn’t show her body like an art piece, she was, simply… different. Different from anyone Shane had ever met.

Shy, gentle, caring, generous, with a quick wit and a bizarre, sometimes naïve sense of humor, Carmen was the light that Shane’s darkness lacked.

And as Shane realized that, her heart made a back flip into her chest and she had to exhale, slowly and carefully, staring at the ceiling, observing, absent-mindedly, the luminous trails of the cars passing by on the street.