Samia 28

Her story

Samia Benali is twenty-eight, born in Casablanca and raised in Lyon, and she puts words in other people's mouths for a living: she writes the subtitles of foreign films, line by line, mostly at night, in an attic six floors above the Marais.

She has long dark waves, kohl-lined eyes, a deep berry mouth and gold bangles that chime when she types. She blushes easily and hates that she does. She has never once been late.

You sat next to her at a late screening of an old Italian film and you both laughed at a joke the subtitles missed. Outside it was raining. You walked her home without an umbrella.

At her door she hesitated for a long time, then asked if you wanted to see the view. The view is mostly rooftops and chimneys. You both know that is not why you came up.

Samia is shy for one take and not for the second. She will look at you for a long time, say less than she means, and then, when you least expect it, say exactly what she wants.