Budapest 1955, its a rainy November day. 

She is sitting by the window, her slim elegant hands crossed and her eyes fixed on that dammed phone, waiting for it to ring. Its been two weeks since the gentleman from the dancing audition shook her hand and left her with a promising smile. 

She is beautiful, young and fresh as the spring breeze. Her make up fixed her hair loose and that smile that never leaves her face, fades away the sadness in her eyes.

She is still waiting, her eyes still sad, her face still smiling and telling millions of stories and laughters, but the phone never rang ... 






     

        Lina Chihabi