- Damn…she won’t come! - said Jerome while, sitting  on the bench, looked around anxiuosely.
He had met the girl just few hours before. She seemed to be interested in seeing him again. Seemed.
Yet the way she rejoyced to his approach, so kind and sweet and warm, could have been only the best way to dump him away as fast as possible.
Jerome never used to be that pessimistic, but now, because of the hot and suffocating air of the afternoon, and the static silence of the front blocks, he was beginning to get it.
She won’t come.
How could it go in another way, after all?
They had only a swift chat. Jerome approached her, in the supermarket.
The girl, a beautiful, tall, black girl on her twenties, was doubting whether taking some chinese food or not. He had seen her, and something from inside pushed out and led him straight to the girl.
After a brief talking - he did not remember what they had been talking about - she left, and Jerome got the strong sensation they would see each other again.
But she was not coming.
It was almost evening when he decided to move. It was thwarting, rather unfair, but for the first time in his life, his charm failed.
Standing up, Jerome stretched his legs a bit, then lit up a cigarette, took a big drag, waiting for the smoke getting deeply down his throat, before releasing it out.
- Hey you! - 
The voice came as a cold breeze through his ears, shaking his brain hard. That voice.
Her voice.
Jerome turned, and saw her eyes facing him firmly, an odd smile painted on her lips.
- What?...Ehm...How...? Do you...Did you...? -
As a perfect idiot, Jerome was simply unable to utter a logic sentence. The girl laughed, a high-tone, slight, intriguing laugh.
- Well, I’m not supposed to be frightening you. I saw you here from the street and... -
She kept on talking, but Jerome wasn’t listening at all. His mind was lost, connected only to the very depth of his soul.
How come?
How did she know he was here, waiting for her? Of course she didn’t, it all happened by accident but... it happened.
He wished to see her again so much, and she came. She was beside him right now.
What was she saying?
- ...and I don’t think we can leave again without introducing each other, right? I’m Mayou. Nice to meet you...? -
- Jerome... my name’s Jerome... -

***********

Jerome had to correct himself. His charm had worked once again.
Holding her while laying on the bed, he could smell the fresh scent of her skin, could caress her neck with his fingertips, and kiss her breast softly.
She was a great lover, no doubt about that. As perfect as he would have never thought.
She seemed to sleep by now: the moonlight entered the room through the open window, and all was calm and silent.
Inside and outside.
Why, then, was his heart beating so hard?
Jerome was surprised of this, and tried to relax, closing his eyes and breathing slowly. It didn’t work, though.
Something was going wrong with him. Too many cigarettes, maybe.
He opened his eyes, lifted on his elbows and leaned back against the bedhead.
The hotel room seemed to be perfecly ordinary. Every damn thing was at its right place.
So what?
He got up and went to the window. The moon was half visible, now, and half covered by a thick, black cloud. However the view of the city’s landscape was quite good, and it seemed to make him feel better.
He realized he was gripping the cigarette packet: automathically he pulled out one, put it between his lips and lit up the fire. He stared at the flame dancing in front of him and onto the window glass for a moment, before let the fire touching the nicotine. “It will be alright”, he thought.
- Hey you! -
The sharp, cold voice of her froze him.
He wouldn’t turn.
He wouldn’t scream.
He wouldn’t run.
A rough claw grabbed his right shoulder very close to the neck. A liquid flow soaked his skin, and he felt like a stone scratched him hard.
He didn’t know what real pain was, yet.
Jerome closed his eyes to the moon, let the cigarette fall down the moquette, and waited. Waited for the other claw. Waited for her lips.
Waited for Mayou holding him tight one last time.