This is probably the saddest day of her life. Her feminine hormones do not assist her these days; yes, she is one of those coping with PMS every single month and finally survives at the end of the month.
She is happy one day like the shining vibes of the sun, and the next day she has the ability to cry like a rainy cloud in the middle of autumn.
Think about the solitude of a girl who is sitting in her future potential lover’s favorite restaurant located in the Valiasr walk side. She is not eating the sandwich she has ordered wrongly; with two bright eyes seeing the world gray, she is looking at the walk side from the window. Everyone who sees her from outside can recognize her miserable look; she feels blue and nothing can clear this feeling up for her.
She thinks, We are trying to move forward in a world in which the memories we carry on our shoulders every day are putting us behind. Seriously, what are we struggling with? Who wants us to carry this huge burden on our shoulders every day? She asked this question to herself while she was trying to obstruct her tears from flowing on her face. She stayed quiet for several minutes while she was looking at a bird trying to find food beside the walk side. Then she thought, Maybe our memories are the things we are struggling with—she was not sure, though.
She was coming back from a job interview that could have been very good for her, yet she was sure, based on her intuitive feelings, that she was not going to hear back from the company. She was asked so many boring questions that she could not answer.
Anyway, she finally finished the chicken sandwich she had ordered by mistake, and she did not like it at all, then smoked a cigar and went out of the restaurant, which reminded her of the man who she might have been madly in love with in the dead silence of her heart.
She walked through the street, embracing the small pieces of memory of him; his warm voice, his black eyes (which were so dark it was as if they have stemmed from black acrylic paint), the warmth of his hands, the last cigar he had lighted for her, and the last time they were having coffee and he kindly put sugar in hers.
Besides all of these feelings, she was scared of admitting her love for him. Maybe it was too soon to do this. Maybe it was too soon for her to get another job after quitting the last one; maybe she was too ahead of her actual life—her mind needed time to accept what her heart already knew.
She took a deep breath in the polluted weather of the city she was born in, finding herself in the middle of a puzzle where she could not fit the pieces together—a puzzle called life. However, the only thing she was sure about in the 25 years of living in this planet was that she had to move forward, she had to endure the discomforts and just keep moving; no matter what was putting her behind, whether it was the memories of her last boyfriend she had broken up with six months ago, the annoying memories of her previous job that eventually made her quit, or this polluted weather she desperately wanted to run away from. Despite all of these, she still had the small pieces of happiness laid in her heart, shining like small stars that could be seen in the darkest hours of nights; they came from the light of the cigar lighted last night by the warm hands of her future potential lover.
She thought, That’s enough! Then she smiled and kept walking in that autumn evening, trying to forget about the crazy job interview.