As the meeting ended, she walked outside the bullpen, getting ready to chase another one. She knew the tall man had been staring at her since she first entered the meeting room. He kept staring at her wrist, when her old analog watch curled beautifully. She didn't want him to feel guilty, it was all in the past. She didn't blame him for her sister's death. Never. "Do you need something?" she approached him, maybe she could end whatever it was in his mind. But he stood still, with his cold look, and cold eyes, and black attire. Even back in her childhood days he always wore black. Those eyes are cold, but she knew he had been hurt for the past 15 years. "I will say it for once," she said looking at his black eyes. "I'm not mad at you," she never was, and never would, "I just think you're stupid." It was like he tried to read her mind while she did the same. The difference was that his expressionless face covered most of his sca...
Because sometimes it's strong, gentle, fresh, warm or cool, and sometimes not.