Father figure Frank took us out for breakfast dressed like death, all black and cigarette smoke surounding him. A looked at him with indecisiveness, it's like she can't hate him since he makes me smile but she does loath him for making me stay. Or maybe I just want it to be like that. Maybe she's looking at him with lust. I would have, if the tables were turned.
We should have invited Miri, how is she? F asks, trying to be light on his tone. But the way his lips moves makes him look nervous. A lonely daughter must be some kind of humiliation here, or maybe it's simply concern but either way I'm sure that in his mind, A has already left and I'm back on the attic reading and drinking without speaking again. Maybe the tall dark man who must have been a friend of his told him, maybe he needs me to be occupied so that I won't violate his other friends. Maybe he just wonders what happend to the pretty girl with the dark fringe under which she hid her mysterious eyes. My whole life is one big Maybe.