Fiction · Just stories · Thoughts · Travel

Le bouquet de Marguerites…

  • He loves me… He loves me not…
  • One thing’s for sure, He loves me more than He loves you!

A perfect example of the discussion echoes I heard here and there in the white Villa everyday. At first, I was barely paying attention to the childish arguments, but after a few days, I noticed it seemed to be the ony link between all the beautiful women living here…

Sitting on one of the several terraces facing the sea, snacking on some fresh fruit and ice cold water, I asked Jennifer what all the fuss was around “Him”. She seemed amused by my question.

  • You obviously haven’t been here long enough to understand the situation… You’ll soon join the catfight, believe me. That’s just the way things are, and how He wants them to be.

“He”? Who was “He”?

  • Give yourself a little time… It is confusing at first, I give you that. – She took a sip, probably thinking about her first days living in the white Villa – It took me a while to get accustomed to this way of living at first too, you know? And there weren’t that many girls around back then…

What the Dang was she even talking about…?

  • It is not a one way trip, you know… He does come every now and then to pick one of us up for a day, or a week, depending on his mood… He takes us out for a night out dancing, or flies us to a foreign country he just got interested in, and brings us sightseeing the most incredible places you could imagine… And then, He drops us at the door, and disapears after blowing a kiss in the warm Vlora air…

She paused, staring at the waves. Jennifer looked like the most down to earth girl of the Villa, which was why I enjoyed her company the most, but sometimes, she didn’t make more sense than the others.

  • He’ll come back for you too… Don’t worry. He’ll surprise you when you least expect it. And don’t worry about the other girls’ attitude towards you either. It’ll wear off… It had been a while since the last “new girl” showed up. There must be something special with you, I for one, am happy he sent you here! Cheers to that!

She obviously wanted to makes things clearer for me, but every time she talked, I was more confused. I smiled as if any of what she had said made sense, and waited.

Why did she keep mentionning we all had been sent here? I sure hadn’t… I wandered in my most recent souvenirs, the ones just before that morning when I had awakened in a large white silky linen bed in Albania… I had prepared for a trip of my own… Where to, it was still blurry.

When I came to my senses, Jennifer’s glass was still in the air, and I hit mine against it gently, shaking off all the question marks on my mind.

  • Skål!

Jennifer smiled…

  • You’re getting there girl, you’re getting there…

One thought on “Le bouquet de Marguerites…

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