The girl whispered, “I love you.”
It took a while for the words to sink in his consciousness. When they did, he broke into a brief silent smile. The trace of dismissive scorn did not miss the girl. She repeated, “I loved you . . . from the moment I saw you there at the corner table.”
He watched her with an amused mocking glint and said in a slurred voice, “It's okay. I paid you already.”
“You know, he looked exactly like you, calm, serene, simple, sitting at that corner hidden in the darkness watching me. He was the one who took my virginity.”
He stopped for a moment and listened. In a stupor of inebriation, it sounded like a true account.
“He said he loved me. He used to come every night. He bought me this gold chain you see.” The girl pointed at her neck. There was a scar at her neck and there was also a thin gold chain resting on her bare chest.
Ceaseless flow of life swirls around the bends of tears and laughter, vengeance and passion, hatred and love. Yet it flows . . . nothing can stop it. Nothing can block it. The eternal flow holds the wavering reflection of the joker . . .
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