• He loves me...
    He loves me not...
    He loves me...
    He loves me not...

    She was sitting on a swing in a park, holding a small sunflower in her hands and slowly, one by one, plucking out its petals which landed in a puddle nearby. It was Summer, to tell the truth, early July, nevertheless the weather felt more like April, it changed often and it rained probably every day. Now it seemed it was going to rain again, the sky getting darker and darker, but she didn't pay attention to it, completely concentrating on the flower and her thoughts.

    He loves me...
    He loves me not...
    He loves me...

    She didn't even know why it mattered so much to her. She used to say that she was heartless. If anybody looked for her heart, it was under a bellglass, on a shelf in her room. That, of course, was just a metaphore, but the 20-years-old, who was just telling herself fortunes using sunflower petals for that, explained like that the reason why, despite her being friends with many guys, she somehow couldn't feel anything deeper than friendship towards any of them. Some of them were disappointed, but she couldn't help it.

    He loves me...
    He loves me not...

    And then HE appeared. She became interested in him ever since she saw him for the first time. There was something...familiar about him. She decided to befriend him. At first it seemed to her that this acquaintance was making a quite slow progress, but in the end the ice has been broken. Also, finally the girl found out what was that familiar thing about him. It turned out that they shared some experience, not always nice, owing to which they understood each other quite well. And then something started to happen to her, something that hasn't happened in quite a while. She tried to push it away, but with no success. It seemed that somehow her heart found its way where it should be, beating and living.

    But...what did it matter...To tell the truth, he did tell her once or twice that he loved her, but there are so many kinds of love.

    The last petal, held for a while in her two fingers, finally was blown away by the wind and the girl got up from the swing. It started to rain and she didn't have an umbrella. She instinctively bowed her head, as if it could protect her from the rain that kept getting harder and harder, stuck her hands into pockets of a jacket she wore, and walked fast. There was a slight smile on her face.