With his eyes fixated on me; he strokes his chin and I’m unable to read his facial expression.
“what?” I finally ask, without trying to sound impolite.
“it’s just…” he pauses, as if trying to find the right words to say.
“you don’t strike me as a woman who likes poetry”
I take a deep breath and reply..
“be careful of judging a book by its cover – you might just miss one hell of a story“