She started talking to me. We were talking about everything under the sun. We talked about rivers, mountains, far off places, ideologies, kids, man, woman, books and it went on. Now I interrupted. I started talking about poetry, I started talking about love. She took out a mask from nowhere(I was looking at her feet when she did that,I have never been able to get over my obsession with her feet). The mask was coloured blue. It was by no means beautiful like her. It was not ugly, but there was something clumsy about it, quite unlike her other accessories. I could see only her eyeballs, I could not make out her expressions. I got completely lost. I became numb. I mustered courage to ask her where she got the mask from. She said something which both of us knew is irrelevant. Then I asked her to take it off. She took it off, her expression bore no semblance to intrigue. She was as, she had always been. As if nothing had happened, she started talking about our good old Shakespeare.
And then I woke up.