Eyes

Filled with the impressions of the previous evening, I shouldn't have slept at all, but I fell asleep very quickly. Just a normal meeting with a friend.

I was cleaning the refrigerator when the intercom rang.

"Will you wait a minute?" I said, and rushed to the wardrobe. I couldn't go downstairs to his place in a stretched-out black T-shirt and old capri pants. I usually don't know what to wear, but that doesn't stress me out at all, and yesterday I thought I'd go crazy. So I put on my favorite light jeans and a matching jacket. Just a spritz of perfume, and I was downstairs.

He was sitting on his BMX bike, looking at me with his beautiful blue eyes, and flashing smiles.

"Hi," I said. "Sorry it took so long, but I had my hands full and... what's wrong?" He still didn't say anything, just grinned. "Am I dirty somewhere?"

He didn't answer, so I returned to the staircase door and looked into the narrow glass. But I couldn't see a stain or a smudge of mascara anywhere.

"What's wrong?" I asked. "

You just look different..." he said, and I gave him a radiant smile.

We talked for about ten minutes. About vacations, the mountains, the camps we'd been to, and current movies.

"You just look different." That sentence of his stuck with me. I carry it deep in my heart and still hear him saying it in my head.

I fell asleep very quickly.

In the morning, I was woken by the work of workers on the roof of my building. It was twenty past eight.

"I won't sleep anymore," I thought, and went to get the book I'd started the day before. I read it in bed until it struck nine-thirty. I swept the entire house, dusted the dust, and watered the plants. After a while, I looked in the mirror. A calm but sad face stared back at me, with slightly dark circles under the eyes and pale cheeks. So I grabbed my makeup bag. A few swipes of mascara and green eyeshadow. Light green pearl, actually. Added to that a green blouse with a yellow motif and a sweater of the same color. Unfortunately, there wasn't enough time for my hair. Each strand of hair has a life of its own, each one spun in a different direction today. But the wind was so strong today that even if I styled it perfectly this morning, I'd still look like a witch. There were

huge queues at the post office. Suddenly I heard:

"Priority?"

I shook my head

. "How am I supposed to know what this priority thing is?" I asked myself.

And I ran to the tram. On my right was an old friend. Kisses, wakes up, and what's up. I wanted to brush her off because I was already feeling late (I left my cell phone at home), but luckily she was in a hurry too. A chin piercing and a driver's license. This world is going to the dogs!

As if to spite me, red lights appeared at every intersection. Almost twenty minutes late. My friend stood at the agreed-upon spot, wearing a green scarf, waving at me.

"Excuse me!! There are huge lines at the post office. Have you been waiting long?" I asked, and when my guilt was forgiven, we boarded the tram.

We passed Real and got off at the end of town. Low-rise apartment buildings with pointed roofs, hills covered in flowers and tall grass. No streets whatsoever.

We watched a movie on the computer. In English, because we were having trouble installing Polish subtitles. We took pictures together, and she walked me to the stop. I boarded first. This red tram wouldn't have interested me if it hadn't had double seats. It was the first time I'd seen one. I took a seat at the front. During that long ride, I got up three times to give way to older people. I don't remember the first time. The second time, it was a nice man with a cane. He thanked me and replied,

"It's rare, but it happens."

Then, in the tram window, I saw an old woman with purple hair. I laughed to myself. I know I'd never fall on my head like that. I felt like I had to pocket my exhaustion and stood up for her. I like doing this because there's so much warmth in each of these people, and when they say "thank you," I see my dead grandmother in their eyes. They give you the smiles from the Colgate toothpaste ad, oblivious to the fact that they often have no teeth left.

I ran to the bus. For a while, I was surrounded by the lecherous stares of men in their thirties. Finally, I got off. When I got home, no one was there. I wandered aimlessly until I finally remembered I was hungry. After heating up the soup, I felt alternately hot and cold. I couldn't think. My mind went completely blank. I ate half a chocolate bar with nuts, which I'd stashed away for days of depression, and drank some cold cocoa. Then I turned on the radio and stared into my glass of tea. Its color ranged from light to dark brown—"just like my hair," I thought

, and wandered around the room again. I tied up my unruly locks and pinned them up with bobby pins. I glanced at the mirror. I made the silliest faces I could think of, but my good mood refused to return. I don't know what was really wrong with me. I pulled the exhaustion out of my pocket and lay on the bed. I glanced namelessly at my watch. A moment later, the phone rang. It wasn't one of those from my aunt from the countryside whose name I never remember, nor from the editors of one

of the newspapers I send my poems to, nor from a Warsaw modeling studio.

"I love you, smile at last!" said the man whose blue eyes had always attracted me into the receiver.