"His hair blew back from the high forehead, the brow furrowed as the grit of the city stung his eyes. There were no answers there, only more questions. She was a mystery, a lady in gray who moved in and out of his life with the subtlety of a song. The half-remembered lyrics of her hymn hanging in his mind and tugging at the corners, eager to draw him back in.
She was a Madonna in high heels and silk skin, an angel who tempted him, the curve of her smiling lips a promise of things to come. But the small sips of fine wine led only to a drunkenness that left him staggering blindly, always reaching to touch the strands of her hair, only to have it all slip away on the mist."
And you thought I couldn't see your side.
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