I met her in a very classical way: in a supermarket. She would later on joke about it, because in her generation it was a running gag in various single-apps to say “Let’s say we met at a supermarket!”. That we actually met that way made her chuckle. And I liked her smile. She was a student, first semester, art and philosophy. I think that was the only reason why we spend a few weeks together. Even though there was a great physical attraction between us, we didn’t have many similarities. The age difference was visible: She wanted to party every weekend, sometimes even in the week. We didn’t hear the same music. She didn’t care much about the future.
The only two things, that connected us were sex and long philosophical discussions. Those two things kept us awake nearly every night. We would start an evening with one thing and ended the night with the other one.

I had reached a point with the renovation of my house where I needed a break. So we spend most of our time at my apartment downtown. Sometimes we would go to her flat but I didn’t like her roommates so I tried to keep those visits short. It wasn’t a problem, she preferred to be alone with me as well. There was no reason to keep quiet or to show consideration for others. And there was always a bottle of that cheap red wine Rosie and I loved.
I tried to talk about different things, show her music or TV shows from my generation, but she wasn’t interested in it at all. So I stopped it. At first, it annoyed me. But then I accepted it with a hint of resignation. Why should I care, I asked myself? I didn’t have any intentions of spending the rest of my life with this young woman. So, in time, I didn’t care about her at all, I used her as a distraction, a body who would warm my bed in the approaching autumn.  

It was still quite warm when the leaves began to fall. Even in the middle of October the student was wearing those light gowns that she could easily let slip of her shoulders, always with this audacious smile. I got used to her easy living. And even though I knew it was just a sommer fling, I was surprised the first time she didn’t show up. After that, she was hesitating about talking about further rendezvous. I stopped asking her if we would see each other again. She came around two or three times without announcement, after that she vanished, like a ghost disappearing in the darkness of the night. I just saw her once again, by chance, in the corner of a café near the Louvre. She was smiling to a handsome man half my age with soft blue eyes.

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