Chapter nineteen
Chapter nineteen “What colour is the cover I chose?” “Red.” “Red like my hair?” “Red like blood.” Stormy cold winds whipped at us, almost wanting to pass through us. We were in the garden, sitting side by side. He was on his chair. I was on the bench. Paul was helping Mrs Mc Millian in the garden, working hard. “Do you already have an idea for a new book?” I asked to break silence. “I have no inspiration.” “You'll see that...” “...that it will soon come back. Stop speaking nonsense, Melisande. It hurts me instead of making me feel better.” I looked at him, a snicker escaped his lips. “I just wanted...” “Last night I walked, I ran and I almost flew,” he interrupted me grudgingly. His eyes challenged me, pushed me to react, to face him. I was too tired to play along with him, so I
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