“I’m one of a kind,” he said.
“I like people who read something different and imagine something different. I hate people who read comic books and play video games all of the time or buy lots of things from the malls each day, don’t you?” There was no answer. He had trouble denouncing these items that seemed to him so alluring although already his rash flood of feelings prematurely told him that she was the best thing that had happened to him while living in Bangkok and he didn’t want to destroy an emerging friendship with honesty. After all, at present he had no friends. “Aren’t you going to ask why I’m out here?”
He couldn’t let it be shown that he was feeling scared to speak for fear of saying something that would make her turn away from him. He didn’t realize that his vulnerability could be read from his countenance and the sweat that was beginning to come from his forehead.
“Well, why are you out here so late? Are you a homeless orphan?”
She laughed. “Listen, funny guy, see the pendant on this 14 carrot gold necklace.”
“Yes, I do. Maybe you should take that off. It would be safer. Put it in your pocket.”
“Oh,” she said diffidently. She took off the necklace and stuffed it into a pocket. “Thank you,” she said. She paused and then went on.
“I have parents and they are very rich. I live in a nice home. I’m just running away from it. I’m running away from them. You have a kind face but you should wash it more often. I see a pimple.”
“So. I’ve got oily skin. It doesn’t mean I don’t wash it. Now it’s my turn to give a question to you. Your parents did something that upset you. You are running. From what?”
“I wish I could slip into your poem.”