She seemed totally absent. As if there were, as if there were. The staring not seem to find the way back.
He sat next to her slowly, quietly. Not giving importance to what he did. As if he had ever done so. With that security when there is nothing to prove.
She turned slightly and noticed that lost look in it. Very slowly, as when there is no hurry for anything. Then he turned his gaze to the point where it was before, as if to their eyes roam together through the immensity of the moment.
He took her hand gently and tenderly. Through the magic of a first time, but also as if it were a reunion. She turned her eyes to him, almost as slowly as before. Look who was placidly unflappable, with a very faint smile that convey acceptance.
- Do you come here often? He asked. I like both this site ...
After several seconds of silence, like when someone knows immersed in an ancient ritual that must be followed with infinite care, she answers with a quiet, yet safe, "yes."
No one could tell the time elapsed. Both were as out of space and time. As if the tangible issues were unimportant. With your hands together, and with short and seemingly insignificant questions of him, short but sweet monosyllables of response from her. Until he said: "I have to leave
. Will I ever see it?
She smiled more openly than before. "Yeah," was his response on this occasion. He kissed her hand with all the genuine tenderness as he could, as if he has no more after that time. And he got up and left without stop looking. She made a simple but profound gesture of farewell with his hand.
As he walked to his room, he felt happy. I knew that despite the disease that she suffered not allowed to recognize that afternoon had come to conquer his wife. As was at first. Like so many other times in recent years. And there are things that neither the passage of time nor the most Machiavellian can forget completely erase.
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