"I never saw his glimpse more than once at a time. That one look was always enough to make my heart leap into my throat, though. I knew he was not perfect, how could he be? But still, his grapevine hair, almost lighter than his skin, and those lips, ragged, but still the most delicate shade of pink, curled around his ever-burning cigarette, whose smoke reflected in his deep, clear, dark eyes... It all had an air of age unfitting to his cherubic smile and his childish voice. He only ever looked at me very briefly, even when we spoke. I don't know if we could have become friends, and there still sits in me something that doesn't want to find out."
True story. We were both in the right place at the wrong time, I suppose.