My first Kiss with Asia Donowho

I realized that my feelings for Asia weren't just a crush on a pretty woman. It was something deeper. It was a struggle with something I wasn't even fully aware of. My dream showed me how I unconsciously felt like Ryan — consumed with jealousy, resentment, anger at being an outsider, an accidental intruder in their lives.

In reality, they were a couple, their relationship was their personal space. I was an outside observer, and perhaps all my thoughts, feelings, and worries were simply a reflection of how I experienced my role in their story. I became the one who inadvertently climbed into someone else's picture, who filled a space that should not have belonged to me. And this realization felt bitter, as if I was in the wrong place at the wrong time.

But in real life, everything was as it was. I was just a neighbor, and it didn't matter what was happening in my head or in my dreams. All I could do was try to regain my peace and not think about what I couldn't change.

I went downstairs feeling a little lost, as if all these feelings that were tormenting me needed some kind of explanation. I walked through the hall and found myself in the dining room. Asia was sitting there, alone. She looked a little embarrassed, as if she was hiding something, but she was trying to remain calm.

When she noticed me, her gaze flickered to the side for a moment, as if she didn't want me to see her eyes. It was strange. It seemed like she was trying to hide something.

"He's on a business trip for three days," she said of Ryan, briefly and seemingly a little faster than usual.

Her voice was even, but I noticed how she quickly looked away, trying to hide some embarrassment or even anxiety. She was clearly not in her mood.

I didn't know how to react. She said it so calmly, that she was probably trying to convince me that everything was okay, but her eyes, her gestures, everything in her behavior said something else. Something was wrong.

I sat down at the table, but all these thoughts started swirling around in my head again. Why was she acting like that? Why did it seem like there was hidden pain or anxiety in her gaze? And was I really the only one who noticed it?

I felt that something was changing in her life, and this change seemed to concern me too. But I didn't know how to understand it all correctly. All I wanted to do was go up to her, ask her what was going on, but I knew she wouldn't say. She could be hiding something, as often happens, but... I couldn't shake the feeling that I was somehow involved in her experiences.

I went up to my room, feeling something bubbling inside me that needed to be released. Like the words I had been holding back for so long were trying to get out. I closed the door, glanced around the room, and then grabbed the recorder I had bought back in town, not really thinking about why I needed it.

I turned on the recording and started talking. At first, quietly, almost in a whisper, as if I was afraid that someone might hear.

"I don't understand what's happening to me... Why her? Why Asia? I don't know anything about her, only... only what I see. But her eyes, her voice... It's driving me crazy. She's like a riddle that I can't solve."

My words grew louder, my voice gained strength. I didn't realize how much emotion was washing over me. I spoke as if I was trying to explain this to someone who might understand, even though there was no one in the room.

"It's not right," I said, almost screaming. "She's married. She's not for me. She has Ryan. And yet I can't stop thinking about her. Every look she gives me, every word she says, it's like they're meant for me, even if they're not! I'm… I'm going crazy with this love!"

I stopped, feeling my heart pounding and my chest tightening with tension. It felt like I was talking to an invisible psychologist who was listening to all this, but not giving advice. Just letting me talk.

"Why did she hide her eyes at breakfast? What does it mean? Is she feeling something? Or am I just seeing things that aren't there?" I continued. "Maybe I've gone too far in my fantasies? This is just life. And who am I? Nobody. Just a neighbor who thinks about her in a way he shouldn't.

With each word I felt myself freeing myself from this heaviness, as if I were pulling it out of myself. But with this came the realization that I didn't know what to do next. How to live with this love that was never meant to exist?

The tape recorder continued to spin, making a soft, mechanical sound. This small, emotionless device simply recorded everything I said, without caring about my emotions, my suffering. It was not an ally, not someone who could understand me. It was simply fulfilling its soulless task, and this made my anger grow.

I looked at it as if it were a mockery of my feelings. This tiny object was my only listener, but it remained completely indifferent. How dare it? How could everything be so indifferent to what was boiling inside me?

I hit the button angrily, turning it off, and then, without thinking, threw it out the window. The glass clinked dully as the recorder flew past and disappeared behind the frame. I heard a dull thud as it landed somewhere below, perhaps on the ground or in the bushes.

For a moment I froze, realizing what I had done. But I didn't care. This gesture seemed like the only way to get rid of what was weighing on me. I just couldn't take it anymore.

I sank down on the bed, burying my face in my hands. The emotions raged inside me, and the room fell silent again, leaving me alone with this unbearable pain.

I lay on my bed, feeling like I was in a hell of my own making. Everything inside me was clenching, pulsating, as if it wouldn't let me breathe or move. But eventually I forced myself to get up.

I walked up to the window and looked out. My eyes immediately went to the grass below the window. I expected to see the tape recorder there, which I had thrown down in a fit of rage a minute ago. Its black case should have stood out against the green grass. But... there was nothing there.