Hamlet

She saw all his performances. She knew by heart his answers to every interview question he had ever given. She critically and in detail analysed each of his film roles, even the most insignificant ones. She tracked, took aim, and prepared for the final jump.

One day, right after the performance, he received a rose. It was a garden rose with sharp, thick thorns. It was a strange rose, ugly and beautiful at the same time. He had never received flowers like these before. Fans always brought him expensive, perfect flowers. These flowers looked so solemnly as if he was playing Hamlet. But he never played Hamlet. Even through his talent, the directors couldn't spot Hamlet in him.

So, he received a rose. When he brought it to his nose for the hundredth time and inhaled the aroma, he saw a phone number that somebody wrote on the petal. It was so strange that he dialled this number. He did it just out of curiosity.

Her voice was neither joyful nor surprised. And it was as strange as a garden rose, as a telephone number on a petal. Therefore, when she named the place and time of the meeting, he came there. He did it just out of curiosity.

They'd lunch at a cheap eatery to avoid the reporters' attention. The pies here were too hot and tasteless, and the coffee was almost cold and watered down. But he attached no importance to either one or the other.

They wandered through the dark, cold streets. He recited from memory poems by Shakespeare and Blake. She didn't laugh inappropriately like other women. She didn't interrupt or praise him excessively. She listened carefully and intently as if she were his director or critic. And this seriousness amused and frightened him.

In the morning, she nervously smoked in a chair, tucking her long bare legs under her, and looked thoughtfully at him while he slept. He looked vulnerable. She finished her cigarette and went into the dawn.

He never met her again. He tried to find her. However, it was a complicated problem because he didn't know her name, age, and other adequate parameters by which one could find a person.

He couldn't understand what he did wrong. At first, he loved her. Then he hated her, and then only a misunderstanding remained. This misunderstanding remained with him until the end of his life.

He never knew that she had given him the greatest gift he had ever received. She didn't bite his head off. She loved the genius inside him so much that she couldn't do that. And one day, he not only played but also directed Hamlet.