“Thanks.” I said
“No worry.” said the guy.
“What color is the sky?” he asked. “Blue.” I said without looking. He is crazy.
“No it is not look again.” He did not look at the sky either. I lifted my head. Above me sandwiched between drab buildings was the sky. It was not blue.
Purple streaks mixed with bright yellow of the setting sun. There was a bit blue actually. It was late afternoon. I forgot about my stranger.
The sky reminded me that I did not look at it for a long time. When was the last time? Maybe I was four.
“I am sorry.” someone said. Oh, the guy. I looked at him. “I am colorblind. But I still look to the sky when it is dirty. If you don’t you will forget why are you here.”
“Thanks.” I mumbled again.
“See you.” The guy turned and walked away. Hopefully not. I lifted my head again and tried to see why was I here. No. There was no reason. Just blue sky with purple and yellow streaks.
The phone said it was five thirty and it meant that I was more then twenty minutes late for the lesson. Finally my feet turned on the Rue de Bullion street.
Was not she lucky to live here? The setting sun touched every surface from the mossy roofs to the brass stair wells in this historic street.
And there was much more sky than in front of the subway.
“Don’t knock, just come in.” said Emma last time and I quickly jerked the door knob. Hopefully it was the right house.
The ceiling in the hall I stepped in was really high as promised by the facade but it was really dark. The hall ended abruptly leading into another room. The house was still.
This time I really hoped the number of the house was right.