Fisherman In Grey (Part II)

“I caught the gaze of her grey-blue eyes. Gentle eyes. The type that possess a subtle but alluring glow.”

She is studying contemporary art at a private school for individuals aged 18 and above. The course offers no valid qualifications but one is to receive greatly efficient and favourable insight from it, resulting in a very handsome CV for one looking to enter the industry of contemporary art.


She hands me a spare towel and toothbrush. I thank her.
“I’m making apple, tomato and cheddar tartines for breakfast. I hope you don’t mind.”
“Not at all.” I say half smiling.
“Good. How do you like your coffee?”
“Black, mild, with two sugars.”
“Coming right up, sir.” she says in jest. She then shows me the way to the bathroom, and then how to operate the shower.

Once inside, I do a good job of cleaning myself. At a point, I just stand in there for some time while the steaming water sprays over me. I think of the night before. The soft feel of her skin. Her adept and elegant movements. The tender groans which broke from her exquisite lips. Merely thinking about it sends fervorous surges throughout my body.

On the Thursday we met, we exchanged numbers once we realised that we live not so far from each other. I gave her a call on the following Tuesday, and we met up for a bite to eat that evening when I’d finished work.

We got to know each other in more detail: she told me her mother was originally from England. She moved to Germany at 19 to marry her husband once he proposed to her just months after they met. Two and a half years later, they had a daughter and called her Amber. Amber grew up in Rostock with both her parents.
Her father worked at the docks. He never went to university or even finished school; he just went straight into work at 16. He started off solely helping with maintenance of the ships and equipment, and loading the vessels, but he eventually went on to designing and building ships and other structures once he’d gained the practical familiarity.

He is a keen observer, and whatever he sets his mind to, he does it with an admirable efficiency. He’s strong-willed and assertive. His initiative and practicality are his sharpest, most favourable assets. Though, he is also a great family man. He loves the two women in his life more than anything, and wouldn’t hesitate to try provide for their security and every need.

Amber’s mother, who understood very basic German at the time she moved to Rostock, managed to scrape part-time but regular work as a translator of children’s books from German to English, and vice versa. She spent four days a week home-schooling Amber, who hated the idea of school from the moment she set foot there.

I don’t know what it was. I wasn’t especially attached to my parents or anything, and there was nothing wrong with me as far as I know, but I just hated school. I hated the idea of cramming children who had all types of differences and characters into a classroom and forcing them to get along. It just never made sense to me. It frightened me, she said. I preferred to be alone with some pencil crayons and a canvas. Amber’s mother had no idea what to do about this, so she decided to start home-schooling her until a better idea came to mind. Amber’s mother also taught her to speak, read and write in English.

When Amber reached secondary-school age, though, she decided to give school another chance.
I found it strange at first. I mean, of course; I hardly came into interaction with other kids my age, especially so frequently and for so long at a go. But by the second year, I was totally used to it. I didn’t find it hard to make friends. People liked me. I wasn’t popular or anything, no, but when people came to me, they generally never had a problem with me. Nor I with them. I wasn’t the weirdo kid or anything.

She told me how her art teachers recognised her exceptional knack for the subject, and suggested that she maybe ought to pursue a profession within art. The idea didn’t evoke any displeasure in Amber, but she realised how competitive a sector it was, and how challenging it would be to stand out from every other “exceptionally talented art student”. So, she decided to set herself apart from other aspiring artists in her town by leaving Rostock and coming to England for a year to study in a private school.

And now here we are.


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