Woke up, blinked a couple of times until the nightly blur had disappeared from my eyes. Like dry lenses last nights smoke covers my pupils, it's a fog uneasy to clear. Next to me lays the girl with magic eyes. The one that makes me sleep. Fully dressed unlike me. I shyly cover my bruised chest with crisp white sheets and with much grace (or so it seems, but then again Im still drunk) make my way to the window. I grab the half full champagne bottle and empty it in three gulps. I almost choke trying not to cough. Light a cigarett, slowly inhale, stop, exhale while watching her eyelids vibrate. She sleeps so intensely, I bet she's dreaming.
Five cigarettes later, I still can't stop looking at her. This is what she does for a living. I pay her to do what I now can't stop doing. I watch, and then just before she wakes up I break down in tears.
She stayed with me the entire night. She fell asleep next to me.
She's my Helen of Troy, my Ansgar.