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live on the farm with my grandfather.” I took a break and Peta stared at me intently. I did not confuse the words when my eyes met hers. “On weekends I go to the farm and help in the agricultural aspect. You know, I really feel like I accomplish something there. Love nature and all its green!”
    I supported my elbows on the table which had a red tablecloth.
    “What about you? Why did you decide to study history?” I asked looking at her. Peta took a sip of water and answered.
    “Because I love history in general. No one exists without a past. History has its importance in society. What we are today, we owe to the ancient knowledge.”
    “Okay.” I nodded and ate a piece of pizza. “In which area do you want to work after your graduation?”
    “I still do not know,” she replied. “I still have four years left to think about it.”
    She smiled at me. “I have no safe job as you already have on your grandfather’s farm.”
    She spoke jokingly. She smiled again.
    “It's true. I will not need to go in for a civil service employee examination or face numerous interviews to get a job.” I smiled softly. “My job is guaranteed and waiting for me as long as it is needed.”
    “You smiled,” she said staring at me. Her eyes seemed enchanted with my almost timid smile.
    “I very rarely smile,” I confessed to her.
    “Why?” She insisted.
    “Because I grew up in a family that is very repressed.” I paused, “My parents never gave me the right to make my own choices, except in my studies.”
    “Why do you say that?” Peta looked confused and interested in the subject at the same time.
    At that moment I lowered my head and looked down at my plate of pizza.
    “Forget it. I do not want to talk about it now.”
     

     
    Peta
     
     
    “This is where I live,” I informed him as we drove up the street. We were in Natanael's father's car. He got out of the car and politely escorted me to my gate.
    “It’s nice!” He looked around and saw part of the house through the low wall.
    “It's a simple house, but I like it here.”
    I put my key in the gate lock and opened it.
    “It must be nice to live alone.”
    “Sometimes yes.” I gazed up at his face. “But I preferred to live with my mother. I so wish she was still alive.”
    Natan said nothing and put his hands into his dark jeans pockets. His black shirt made him look more beautiful. There were men who were irresistible in black.
    “Come in for one instant!” I insisted, opening my front door. Natan remained standing at the gate. He looked embarrassed by my invitation. It seemed he wasn’t accustomed to frequenting houses of women who were living alone, who had declared their own independence.
    “I think it's much too late ...” he muttered looking around.
    “Come on in! So we can talk bit more.”
    Moments later, I turned on the light in the living room and Natan stepped into the house. He was very reluctant but he came in anyway. He looked around at the sofa, TV, some paintings hanging on the walls. The room was not very big, but it was neat and clean.
    “This was my mother,” I said picking up a picture on the table next to the couch.
    Natan held it and looked my mother’s picture.
    “Your mother was so different to you!”
    “Yes, I resemble my father. He was Dutch.”
    “Now that explains it!” he joked. “And all these freckles!”
    I smiled.
    “I never dye my hair and do not intend to do it except when I get old! I love the natural hue of it.”
    Natan stared at my red curls and after that his gaze went down to my blue eyes and my red lips.
    “You are so beautiful!” He said quietly.
    I blushed at his unexpected compliment. I took my mother’s picture and put it back on the table. I looked at Natan. He just stood in the living room.
    “Sit down for a little while.” I offered.
    He put his hands on his legs and sat down slowly. His fingers began to play with each other. He seemed very nervous. Maybe he was timid being inside the