Living in the Chelsea Hotel was living among the rock stars and Hollywood artists.
You went out to grab the newspaper, while your girlfriend Joan stayed in the room, talking to someone on the telephone. The morning was cold, as it is usual in December, and you tucked the scarf around your neck. At that moment, you didn't think it was possible to be happier than you were. Your writer's career was just taking off and you and Joan were really happy together, that you were starting to thinking about asking her to be your wife.
"I'm back!", you exclaimed, walking into the room.
Joan was sitting by the window watching the snow starting to fall outside.
"Hi babe.", she said, without taking her eyes from the window.
With the newspaper under your arm, you were walking to her as you saw a paper laying next to the telephone. It was Joan's calligraphy in a poem.
Well, I'll be damned
Here comes your ghost again
But that's not unusual
It's just that the moon is full
And you happened to call
And here I sit
Hand on the telephone
Hearing a voice I'd known
A couple of light years ago
Heading straight for a fall
Her poetry was always beautiful, but there was some sadness in this poem that you didn't understand at first.
As I remember your eyes
Were bluer than robin's eggs
My poetry was lousy you said
Where are you calling from?
A booth in the midwest
Blue eyes... You knew very well to who those blue eyes belonged to.
"(Y/N)...", Joan called, still sitting by the window, but this time looking at you. Just then you could see her shiny eyes as she had just been crying.
You both stayed in silence for some moments before you spoke again.
"It's about Dylan, isn't it?", you asked, and she simply nodded. You sat down on a chair next to the telephone wondering if you should ask her about him. "You like him, don't you?", the words escaped from your lips.
Joan cleared a tear that escaped her eyes.
"I did. But it was a long time ago, darling.", she said, and curved her lips in a sad smile. "But it doesn't matter anymore."
Deep in your heart, you wished that was true. But Joan was just lying to herself. She would always love Bob no matter how many years had passed since they broke up. And she could smile and feel happy around you, but in the end her kind heart would always belong to the mysterious guy with blue eyes.
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