They met every morning at the turn of the road, right before they descended the street on their way to work.
Their encounter was accidental. Just a coincidence. They were both in their twenties, she was in her fifties.
A young couple with desire and their dreams overflowing as they approached. It was a question of minutes that encounter of the three of them. Sometimes he was the one waiting, occasionally it was her. She remained at a distance. When it was him waiting, he kept his hands in the pockets of a grimy outfit, which, depending on the weather, he covered with a jacket of the type that makes them all look like aviators, and a short haircut. He pulled out one hand to hold hers. As for her, quite young, a coquette, with grace and mannerisms, with untied, but not sloppily long, dark hair.
She liked to watch their morning kiss. Their lips touched briefly, but not uncaringly, whereas their hands sheltered each other like bird wings. They strolled by twittering in front of her.
They paced together daily for about ten minutes. Them walking in front, and her, right behind them. Months went by. She first met them in September, and, step by step during five months, they shared dreams and hopes, rain and cold, sunshine and winds.
Together with them she experienced their joyfulness and hope. Theirs was abundant; hers had been lost forever.
She liked to guess their dialogues, their plans and promises, to steal the meaning of their mutual reassurances, to fantasize about the lust of their bodies, to be disappointed with their squabbles, to provide solutions to their needs and wants. She’d like them to be together, inseparable, a wish and a dream to gaze at eternity. She wanted to prevent the ravages of time, the routine, the deceit, the intermingling by others, the compromise, the colorless gaze, the pretentiousness, the fatigue. She sought to guide them like this into the future. To prevent slipperiness, conflicts, and outbursts. She only sought to maintain the gust of their passion. To touch them with the "stay as you are" magic wand. An indestructible life vision. She wanted to do that, but reality is different and the certainty was, her being on one side, and them on the other. Perhaps, if she was 'them' she would still have the possibility.
They used to separate at the central crossroad. East and West. The girl went west, them both towards the east. A short kiss demarcated their daily separation, leaving a feeble sadness hovering, though the ‘every day’ routine did its duty and wiped it away.
Wiped it? Yes, it did. It reacted indifferently, but it worked persistently towards the opposite, and created the perpetuity. She hurried up her step and passed him by. For now the couple went away. Just like her interest in them.
The day moved forward. Occasionally their beauty popped up in her work schedules of the day. She smiled then and her co-workers wondered where the shining in her face came from.
What could you explain? She had spent all her life and freshness to the fading and passing of others.
Everyday, she planned an interaction with them and she even thought of dialogues. She kept repeating "Good Morning" and soma questions to ask them.
Maybe tomorrow.
The day after tomorrow perhaps?
“You just met? Where exactly was that?”
At school, in the neighborhood, on the internet, at the bar. Maybe at the beach. On a daytrip. Oh no, something more promising. To be long-lasting, to have a basis. What kind of basis does make love last? These are naive resolutions, predictions, and questions.
The young lad and the girl started their day together, sunshine in their soul and mind. They were facing the ‘tomorrow’ casually. They scattered a hope for life that sprinted forward and left you behind. She made up her mind and decided to give them a present.
She’s been waiting for years for someone to invite her to dinner with candlelight and crystals, with a red fluid that inflamed the eyes and reddened the cheeks. White tablecloths would spread before them like the sheets that received their bodies. Tunes would sound like the music of their love, a message to others, a shelter for them, flowers everywhere with petals that their hugs scattered away, and all this with a taste that reproduced the chemistry of their bodies.
She found the shop. Stone-built. Its windows just like in fairy tales, so tiny small that you can hardly tell whether Cinderella’s shoe finally fitted her foot. Waiters, customers, dishes, saucers marched quickly in front of her during their evening walks, when she immortalized their short-lived images.
"Yes, a young couple, you will receive them under my name. Right... at a corner table. In front of the fireplace... by the window. Red, yes, red. The entire menu. Abundantly, as it suits them. I do not want any stinginess. You could find me ... "
She has been looking forward to the day itself. She arranged for it. She arrived before they came. She waited at the corner. Every now and then she sought the small envelope in her purse. She looked impatiently right and left, anxious about the outcome. A dog strolled by stepping slowly. It was just tramping. A witness of the encounter. What if they refused? What if they were disturbed? What if they rejected the proposal because of pride? If they uttered to her "with which authority do you interfere?". God no! Her intent was really good. She just had one dream to offer. Where is the wrong? It’s not about the expense. This is definitely not the case. The intent and decision were the hard part.
He arrived first and she saw him with anemones in his hand. He held them modestly by his side like he was shy about them. He attempted to walk past her.
"Don’t go away. Wait! " she told him.
"I am the lady of the morning."
"I know."
"I'd like…"
"What?"
She spent almost a century describing the dream, and only the wide pupils of his eyes confirmed to her the reality. Somewhat negative, annoyed, puzzled, wary, awkward, indecisive, he still struggled with the proposal.
To catch a dream?
How about any payback?
He was still hesitant.
But it seemed so inviting, challenging, so promising. His emotions went away and then returned. He picked it first... he then gave it back. The passing of time appeared so long. It wasn’t, however. Decisions seem to travel kilometers in time before they emerge into the light. Time is being measured in different ways by decision making, sorrow, joy, life itself, and a stopwatch.
He saw her at a distance descending the road, and the February breeze strolling between her tresses. He saw her reflected in the teary eyes of the lady of the morning, he just saw her, and he was so very close to the dream. A short breath’s distance.
He and his beloved inside the dream.
She saw them with their fiery looks, facing each other, relaxed bodies, hands together like birds, and cupid to be teasing the candle flames.