She picked up the phone with her right hand, gently slid open the balcony door with her left hand, and then closed it with her backhand. I looked at her back through the glass door of the balcony. Tall and plump. Her long flaxen hair was gently curled. While talking on the phone, she would comb her hair around her ears with her hands from time to time, sometimes with her hands on her hips, and sometimes with her head raised. I couldn't hear anything at all, the house is well soundproofed. It's like looking at a silent painting. It's just her red tulle in the dark night that makes her exist like a monster.