Tara told me that Victor and she rolled last year. For good. To me, the truth, like me. It's up to those two right? Tara I hardly know her. As for Victor ... well, I still do not know less than Tara. And I give a shit rolls that are brought to one and another.
I follow my process of adaptation to Bline. And I'm getting used to the extreme cold of this village. And I complained about it does in the mountains! This is another thing, I tell you.
On the other hand, I have to admit it's nice. The snow, and all that. The firs, as white under weight of ice. Icicles. The potted poinsettias still hang from the lampposts, but that ended long ago Christmas. Slate roofs. And the stone houses, all alike.
all the same, yes.
And that's something that just will not like it. This uniformity, in this town, it gives the impression that all resemble each other.
That makes me feel like a foreign element. Although I am not the only Victor's not like the others. I realize that when someone makes a joke and everyone laughs at the same time, only Victor and I were as cut. As if we understood what makes them so funny to others. Today, when everyone was roaring with nonsense had said Toño, Victor and I stood silent and stared.
Victor.
Tara's crazy about Victor. And Tara is my friend.
So it should start to look the other way. As much as I keep drawing me in the eyes of Victor.
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