Perfect Strangers

'So are we perfect strangers once again?', I asked.

She didn't respond, still looking out of the window into the constant rain. She would occasionally shiver in the cool Napoli breeze, but refused my offer to use my jacket. There was something about her, something unusual. She would go silent when others would find it easy to talk, and smile and talk her heart out when you would least expect her to.

Somehow I had assumed that my question would bring her out of her stupor, but I slowly realised that I was wrong. This was my third attempt in the last one hour, and she had been quite for a long time this time. I could see a small tear building in her left eye, but wouldn't dare make a move. We were after all only strangers, and she might take me wrong. So I just waited as the tear dried off, even before it could roll down. She was holding something back, and it was taking a toll on her.

As I stared at her face, she turned and looked right into my eyes and said, 'Yes, that's exactly what we are.'

Before I could respond, she was already out in the rain, soaked to the bones and walking fast into invisibility, uncertainty and wilderness. I thought for a moment, but then reluctantly followed her into her dark, unknown world. She was too precious to be lost, I was ready to lose myself for her.

We already were strangers who knew each other too well...