story

Love before, during and after rain.


I was struck by it, by the way they look, as if it were a stranger who looked for the first time, but it did. He had risen at the same station and I was alone.
Not until the next stop, she entered the bus and did not notice its presence, althoughhe sat next to him. Then out of the bag a portfolio of artwork. He, as I said, he lookedas if evoked a hundred times together: the fall when the rain took refuge in the same place, the excuse to talk to, phone numbers, days of doubt, shyness him to ask her out, she silences to delay the appointment, the recital in which they agreed, the kiss, kisses, confessions, discoveries, two dinners, meetings, engagements, engagement, children and desires keep dreaming. What if you only remember aformer love? Or perhaps, without much sharpening memory, she was the emptyoutline their desires, latent illusion that kept him awake, a happy ending that he hadlived for a night of insomnia.
  I had no thought of taking a bus, she. Outside the rain had stopped. I asked if the pictures were his.