Beautiful Strangers
Her lips were the color of ripe strawberrys.
Her eyes--deep brown, with a carmel glaize.
Her hair-- So perfect, It was like a wig. Same color as her eyes.
She was dressed in designer colthes. Gucchi, Armani, Versachi. Everything, even her socks. She was holding a book, curled up in the seat at the airport, all alone. A bag rested next to her. She appered to be about 15.
She had been watching me for a while, writing something. I approched her. Her eyes met mine, she studied me. "Bonjour. Comment allez-vous. Je m'appelle Clara," She half smiled. It was then I realised she was french. I didn't think she spoke any english.
"I'm sorry. I don't speak any french."
"You...are.....american, no?" She spoke, slowly, as if she had to think about each word, before she said it.
"Yes, I am. My name is Taylor." I extended my hand to her.
She just looked at it. Finally she slowly took my hand, and shook it gently.
"Sorry, I am not very good english speaker." She smiled at me. Her accent was heavy, thick. Even though she was speaking english, her accent almost made it sound like French.
"Thats alright." I told her, smiling. Her eyes lit up, like a christmas tree on christmas eve.
"Thank You. I think I have seen you before somewhere. Do you live near here?"
I shook my head. I opened my mouth, to tell her that she had probley seen me on TV, when something made me stop.
"No. Maybe you just saw somebody who looked like me."
She noded. The annoncment lady came on, and said something in French. Then she repeated it in English.
The beautiful girl looked up at me. "I must go. That is my flight. I will see you again, hopefully. Au revior."
"Good Bye." What she did next really suprised me. After she had collected her bags, she kissed me on the cheek, and stuffed the paper she had been writing on in my hand. Then she left.
I opened the paper. It read:
Tu es cannon. C'etait mon plaisir. amor, Clara Martian.
I turned the paper over. In english, it read:
I know I do not know you but you influnced me, you beauty did.
I was astounded. So confused!!!
Later that year, we went to france again. I was walking through a bookstore and I stumbled over a book. The title was, "Beautiful Strangers. By Clara Martain." The entire book was in french, but I got it anyways.
I had to. It was about me...wasn't it?