He still couldn't sleep.
It was 2 AM already but his thought was hijacked by the image of someone he met a few hours ago when he strolled around the town to get fresh air and saw a girl with red scarf covering her hair coming out of a building with some people were singing, probably, some Arabic songs inside. They accidentally bumped to each other and she picked and gave his phone he dropped, apologized and then left.
It was mere of a few seconds but he couldn't forget her eyes. They were the shade of the sky as storm blows in, a hint of grey threatening a pure blue day; the kind of color that a lovestruck poet would write tons of poems about. Even he could feel the sonnets forming in his head.
He was very used to admiring girls by their figure, their waist, their hips, their hair, or even their teasing voice. Something about her drew him in, very alluring yet so calming. He couldn’t forget the excitement of her eyes when she talked or the pure smile she gave when her friends were telling her stories; basically the warmness he felt just to look at her. He couldn't figure it out what this unfamiliar feeling was but he knew he needed to see her again. Tomorrow.
Yes, he would see her again tomorrow.
