4 September 2012
Like an angel stunned to silence by death, she closed her eyes. How could he know her name. Did she imagine it, perhaps it was the heavy Bordeaux. She regained her composure and opened her eyes. No longer were his eyes fixed upon her, but re-engaged with his audience, preaching on our moraless society, drunk on his own nocturnal ecstasy. She needed air, she needed to think. She moved to the only open window in the room. The night closed out by opulent drapes in the finest heavy silk of a deep burgundy. She looked out to the streets of Rózsadomb below and across the rooftops of the city towards the Danube. She inhaled, the beautiful clean, free air, remembering the last gathering. She felt a hand on her waist, startled she turned round. It was only Anna. "Good evening Mária, you seem troubled?" Anna was the wife of an eminent politician, fundamental in the withdrawal of the Soviet troops. She was exquisite. Long dark chestnut hair, eyes of hazel truffle that held you in a warm mothers embrace. She too was dressed in an emerald gown, which softy skimmed the floor.
"No, I'm fine. Good evening. The city looks beautiful tonight" said Mária.
Anna exhaled from her cigarette, "Yes it does. Will you be joining us tonight?"
~The Gathering #4~. ~Part 4~ • Opuss № I