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Emma Thompson and Hugh Laurie attend Thompson’s Hollywood Walk of Fame star ceremony on August 6, 2010 in Hollywood, California.


Favourite People., Hugh Laurie.

“I don’t talk like House, or walk like him. I certainly don’t think like him. I don’t like to think for more than 15 minutes at a stretch actually; I am a fragile flower.”


Favourite People., Emma Thompson.

“Its unfortunate and I really wish I wouldn’t have to say this, but I really like human beings who have suffered. They’re kinder.”

He woke up early again. He stared into the bedroom ceiling for a while, remembering his dreams. She was there again. Emma. It’s been over 20 years since the last time they were together but he still had dreams about her every night.
He turned to his right. His wife’s breathing was slow and quiet. She looked so peaceful and beautiful with the dawn light upon her face, poking through the shades on the windows. She gave a soft sigh but didn’t wake. He loved her, he loved her a lot. She was funny and smart, kind person and a great mother to their kids. But she was not her. She was not Emma.
Rubbing his eyes, he got up and quietly descended to the kitchen. The coffee machine was still empty; the timer would not turn it on for another hour. He pressed a few buttons and a jet of hot water hit the coffee. The sound of it was terribly loud in a quiet house so early in the morning. The paper was already waiting by the front door so he went to get it while the coffee was being made. Pouring himself a cup of bitter black liquid, he took the paper and stepped on the terrace, looking onto a beautiful and peaceful morning garden. He took a seat and unfolded the paper, but he saw no words. Staring at a picture of a famous singer who was caught with drugs again he only saw her face. Lost in his thoughts he took a sip of coffee.
All the memories came flooding back and when he gave into the familiar picture show it was hard to hit the ground again. Her laughter filled his head and a soft smile crept upon his lips; her eyes that always shone so bright with a hint of mischief in them; the soft and gentle touch of her hands. And her lips. Warm and soft they were and light as a butterflies’ wings when they kissed.
A small bird landed on a back of a chair across the table from him and left out a sad sound. It brought him back to Earth and he gave the little blue bird a puzzled look. He took another sip out of the cup he was holding still and noticed the coffee grew colder very fast. Turning a page in the paper he looked upon a new face, a foreign minister visiting this weekend. Her short and wavy hair with golden streaks shining in the summer light and a wide smile kidnapped his thoughts again to a summer long passed when he was still so full of life and love and laughter on a river bank with her head in his lap and the soft summer buzz all around them.
The exams ended and summer vacation was upon them, days and months of warm weather with no worries and all the free time they could wish. It was the best summer he ever had, running around the city, taking a bike ride to the lake, swimming naked with hot sun kissing their skin… All the games played with friends; warm nights in the city enjoying a movie and a cheap dinner they could barely afford. Those were the days where he was so alive and so full of love and happiness it was almost overwhelming. He learned to play a guitar that summer and she loved it when he played her silly songs he made up for her…
“You’re up oddly early.” He almost dropped the cup he still clutched in his right hand. Setting it down on the table he turned around. His wife was standing between the doors leading to the terrace from the kitchen, wrapped in her morning robe and with messy hair. “I turned around and you were gone.”
“I’m sorry, I had a trouble sleeping.” He smiled softly and closed the paper on the table. He drank the rest of the coffee that was already completely cold.
“Anything new?”
“In the paper. Is there anything new?” she asked again.
He had no idea. He forgot the faces he saw and all the words he glanced when he opened the paper. “Just the usual bollocks.” he waved his hand and stood up. “Want some coffee?” Pecking her check he stepped into the cold kitchen that completely wiped Emma out of his head.