He follows me soundlessly showcasing his graceful movements. "Why do you sit here?" he asks while sitting himself in a chair infront of me.
"Because I like to."
My irritation seems to amuse him. "Any specific reason for that?" He asks again patiently.
I want to say that it isn't his business but I find my voice spilling out the actual reason.
"Because it feels good to be at an uncrowded spot where no one looks at you and you can forget this world a little more easily and smile and widen your eyes at a book knowing no one is judging you. And when you've read long enough, you can just look up and admire the effect stories have on other people," I force myself to stop from blabbering. It's hard to say anything other than the truth while staring back at those gray ocean of eyes.
His face
