She walks slowly, despite the cold. Usually the park is very crowded during the summer: there are students lying on the blankets into large squares that are studying under the shade of a tree, or children chasing each other under the watchful eyes of the mothers or grandmothers. But in this period is very little known. Only a few shivering and passing through the heat to reach the home after a day's work, almost running, with the expression of tight fists when fighting against the enemy in Winter.
But she did not. He walks slowly, his hands in his pockets and looked down. From where I am I can not see well in the face, should turn slightly to the left, but I know perfectly well that it will not. Deep in thought kicking the leaves, as if she were dancing aimlessly. I can see a white wire coming out of his pocket right: headphones disappear under the woolen cap.
I try to imagine what kind of music is listening, I am reminded of an old ballad which I doubt, however, she may know. I keep looking at it from the point where I am, I know perfectly well that you do not notice me, despite everything. After a few minutes
spins, a couple of seconds remaining balance on only one of the blacks boots that wrap around your legs is close to a bench in front of me, and sits down. Look in
my direction. A shiver runs through my back, while his eyes merge with mine. It may not have seen me, I'm sure, but a slight smile on his face is drawn, as if digging with his own eyes in my heart.
But it's just a moment. Shortly after, in fact looking back on the pavement covered with branches and leaves, as if trying to make sense of the inconsistency that lies ahead.
A drop of sweat to my brow line, I know that feeling.
He tells me that she is, but I do not want to believe him. I look away, looking for someone else. Any. In the bottom of the driveway is an old man in the company of a large dog. Probably to escape the constant screams of his wife, led the animal to walk a little 'face the cold. I look at him well, for my part would be perfect.
No, the old man does not go well, I tells him. Damn.
I'll be back to look at the girl. I know how it will end, and the pain takes hold of me.
She is beautiful. Sitting on the bench, he lit a cigarette, which holds between his fingers made insensitive to frost. Her lips. His lips immediately known. They are perfect, soft, warm despite the cold edge. A kiss just do not know what I'd give for a simple kiss.
not look at me, please, is your only hope.
I have teary eyes when I see you blowing a slight cloud of smoke, looks up and crosses for the second time my. "Now, I order him.
A matter of a few moments. The finger on the trigger slides fast, the blow is cushioned from the piece of cloth wrapped around the barrel.
From here I can not hear if she makes a sound or not: I see the stagger for a second, eyes turned to the sky, a sky growing dark and cold, while the blow which has pierced the heart takes hold of his life .
Two hundred and twenty feet away, my new record. But it is a first love.
I stand by what I had been lying in hiding for several hours, I shook off the earth and rotting leaves. Hide the gun in her purse, and I start with a fast pace to the bus stop.
A child and a grandmother come to meet me: they go too fast, trying not to attract attention. But it is impossible.
"Grandma, why that man crying?" asks the child, turning to face me.
The bus arrives, I go and sit down. I lean my head to the misted glass, looking for the last time the park surrounded by a thin mist.
"You have to be proud of, with this five," he tells me, in my head.
dry your tears, with a movement of the hand. I fall asleep, but not before he had fantasized about that kiss, that kiss I'll never have stolen.
