1. About a girl in a café
Mary is nineteen. Every nineteen year old girl is beautiful but Mary’s beauty is all the beauty of youth there can be. If you happen to run into Mary someday, you will be drawn into the sea water and sky in your eyes, damp breeze in her hair and softness of her lips. During the week Mary studies architecture at the University of Michigan and works as a waitress in Songbird café on Plymouth Road on weekends. She rents a cottage with a bunch of students like herself, write poetry and dates a guy with messy hair and worn out jeans. Mary’s life is no different from the life of any girl in Mid-Michigan. She could have been just another ordinary girl if it were not for her exceptional radiance. The only person unaware of it, is Mary herself. There is even a note attached to the bathroom mirror saying, ‘You need to remind me of it’. It is unclear who needs to remind to whom and more importantly, to remind of what. But this is the whole point – nobody should know about Mary’s insecurity.
2. About looking at the window
This is not me. This is my image in the glass of the window. Behind the glass, setting sun gilds the tops of yet naked trees, spears them with its golden beam. I look through the clear leaves of the plants on my window sill. There, behind the glass, a dog coughs and kids chirp. Red thick-chested robin jumps in the grass and purple martins soar gurgling. Somewhere on the other side of the lake stuttered geese call up. Birds strive to whistle me out of the house. This is not the first time for them to have morning summit in this regard.