3.Selfish

I cannot relate to his feelings, as I have never known them. But as to mine, I am confident that no detail shall be spared from these monstrous, thirsty eyes.

Several nights were then appeased by his shadow. I could not close my eyes without seeing that blackness which reminded me of his gaze. Though his eyes were unknown to me, I was sure there was darkness in them. Every time I tried to capture a detail of the sky, the shades of a petal or the position of a rose bush, I failed, returning to the memory of his defeat. It wasn't yet that hard to get back and again play the role I was so fond of, and that of the perfect, mysterious Miss Gloom, who would never fake without a reason, who would never disappear without a serious matter behind.

An invitation from Miss Modesty drew my attention a few mornings later, as I was strolling before breakfast, to a small gathering that evening, only four or five persons to come; very pleasing people, thought with high expectations. Nevertheless, had I refused to come, it would have been pointless; Miss Fellow would always be there to force me to go. I used to say I should keep that in mind, but no sooner had I forgotten about the event, than that silly friend of mine came with reasons enough to leave me powerless.

Therefore, I went. There appeared to be more than five persons invited; thirty I think there were at least. And little was my surprise when finding that he had been invited as well. Still less was it when I figured out that he was ignoring me. Unless I remarked how fine his garments were, he would not utter a word in my presence, or in my direction.

Very amusing, and a great study I was to him, to be sure!

But Miss Modesty always welcomed his compliments with smiles; he looked in her eyes as if wanting to express how the depth of her hazel, understanding gaze made him love her with every second passed.

"Truly disagreeable, I cannot believe what I see! Of course, it is known that one loves what one doesn't see in the mirror; their pairs of eyes are of the same colour, and the hair is not very different." And turning to a mirror nearby, with an unbelievable pride, continued thinking, "while I have copper-red hair, which is, of course, much more attractive than hers, and those blue eyes, so rare nowadays; a combination that no man, ignorant or not, should pass by without being struck! How unfair love is," I continued, noticing very little of my selfishness. "And that she should have all of his attention, with so plain a face, and manners so artful! Miss Modesty, your name hardly does you justice!"

I continued my monologue while heading outdoors to breathe unspoiled air - "and that she should have clothing so fashionable, and so many friends, but I know, deep, in here," dramatically touching my heart, "that my friends, though not many, are very loyal."

Having second thoughts, in this real solitude, in the dark of the night, I whispered, disappointed, "yes, my loyal friends are few, and even so, they are not even real. They are my mind's result, but even so, it is better than loneliness," not even wondering why I was the only being that stood outside, in the night's bitter cold.

At last, I returned indoors, but what was I seeing? The dancing had begun; no 'gentleman' had been sent to let me know this, since I was regrettably known for hating dancing. Therefore, I could not but watch how others were enjoying their hilarious hopping. But my dear friend, whose name I did not know, was sitting aside, looking at someone dancing. No doubt that he was watching Miss Modesty's exquisite movements, but I used this occasion to trouble him with some questions.

"What happened to your hair, may I ask?", I began very subtly.

"It's been raining, don't you know?", he said, making a great effort to move his eyes from his love to my poor self.

"I see."

This was one of my flaws. Flaw number one, I will name it. My conversations are based on long-before thought ideas and plans; whenever one of them skips a step of my schedule, I literally crash. Yes, upon the floor.

But this was little of an exception. As the atmosphere was too heavy, there was no room for me to pass out, therefore I moved my gaze on Miss Modesty's dancing. Then, in an impossible calm tone, I continued:

"But how come you are not dancing, sir?", I finally asked him; I was so proud of myself, that I could not understand.

"Not very fond of it. But I have seen you trying to amuse yourself, you do not possess the great gift of enjoying time."

"And I guess it took you a lot of precious time to form this opinion?"

"You simply do not have it."

"How disagreeable!", I shouted inside myself.

He returned with his look to Miss Modesty. I returned to my seat, beside Miss Fellow.

The evening, well, proved itself a waste of time. I was relieved to see myself back in my welcoming dungeon that was my home.