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It was dark. In the dim light coming from the other end of the room, a figure of a woman could be seen. She was laying on the bed, on top of a pile of cushions, her red hair contrasting brutally with her very pale skin. It was almost impossible to see in the dim light, but there were soft lines around her thin lips and so wee around her eyes, now closed, but he knew they were deep green, like nothing else, almost unreal.
There was an arm around her. A young man was laying next to her-what man? a boy-jet black hair...eyes closed...sleeping. Poor boy. Poor Alex.

What had she done? How could she? He was just a boy. How could she bring him to her bed? Had she no shame, no pride at all? She was a ridiculous, pathetic woman! Desperate...blinded. By what? By love? Could she really love or was she a mere vicious old woman? That was more like it.
He loved her. He loved her for her torturing stares, for her well famed curses, for her smile, he loved her for all. Poor boy.