They had talked at length about passion and spirituality. And they had reached the bottom of their tentativeness.
She said the day is coming,
close the window or the morning will find us.
And he felt the world collapse,
felt that the time was rowing against him,
crushed his head on the pillow,
in order to not hear the background noise of the city.
A summer storm leaves sand and heat.
And pieces of conversation and the will to love in the air.
She asked for the password, for the entry code to his pain. He said "Not now, we already discussed it too often, rather help me to be quick, you know my flight will depart in just over two hours."
He heard the phone ring in the frozen room and suddenly awoke and realized he was only dreaming about her.
He wondered who he was and thought "It's all water under the bridge". He stopped searching for answers, he felt that the cough was arriving. He got up to open the shutters but outside the night seemed to have just begun.
Two good travel companions should never let go of each other.
They can choose different paths, but they will always be sailors.
She said mysteriously, "It will be always be late for me when you return."
And he threw a coin into the sea, she looked at it floating, they said "Goodbye!"
on the stairs and the light of dawn outside seemed to evaporate.