Luck

His name was ... well, that doesn't really matter. What does matter is to mention that he was a beautiful creature. The good thing was that people less evolved couldn't quite see it.

His face was enlightened, a golden aura accompanied him everywhere. His eyes were ... those enormous eyes; they ate you alive, without you even noticing it. His messy hair gave him the ultimate touch. His smile ran from side to side giving the illusion it would never stop of revealing itself.

There was something unnatural about those eyes. Sometimes I believe they had a life of their own, they had will and desire. He could easily speak through them if he wanted.

We were friends and just friends. That marked me with bad luck for seven years.

I would never regret enough about that night.

He was telling me with slow and sweet phrases, he'll never be mine. I could feel his breath on my face. He was close enough to make me go crazy.

Somebody else was the carrier of the Good Luck. Somebody else will enjoy those eyes with life of their own, that endless smile and that messy hair.

It is incredible how naive I was, just like a little kid, I thought if I wanted him enough, eventually he will be mine.

I stood up, excuse myself, went to the bathroom, and locked the door. I looked my pathetic reflection in the mirror, I felt repulsion. I couldn't stand it. I felt ashamed. One blow. My arm. The mirror was broken in to pieces, some of them still in my knuckles.

That night was the night of the seven years.

Damn you Luck!!