In the middle of evening leisure, he suddenly appeared at a doorway, penetrated in the faceless mass of people, and stood as if he alone exists, obviously a long time ago reconciled with his own beauty. On the other side of the room, she stopped in the middle of the sentence, struck by lightning on a clear day by his unreal appearance, while Selma immediately headed to attack, tossing her head in an attempt to stun him with her chestnut hair. She watched him for some time, confirming to herself that yes, he is indeed that beautiful, and in spite of everything and all, she approached him, asked for his phone number and went home.
