Hold me in your strong arms for the last time. Let me remember this moment, the last time I will ever feel your touch.
He did not speak and did not respond. Perhaps he was afraid to hear his tears in his voice. The separation was painful even for him, and he was the one who had learned more than enough about severance.
She said to him, “What consoles me is that I asked you more than once to stay and not return to your country, so I am not the reason for your departure.”
He replied: “This short period that brought us together does not mean anything. Each one of us presents ourselves in the best possible light. We do not necessarily have to adapt in the long run or for a longer time. Yes, I enjoyed every moment. We did everything that our imagination inspired us to do. We embodied our fantasy. We drank, danced and smoked. We walked in the rain, we waved to the stars, we watched the dancing light of the candles as they envied us. We listened to Leonard Cohen and watched him bow and salute us after every song. We enjoyed the Portuguese red wine, but this is not our life. It is just a happy moment that ends and turns from reality into memories.”
She was listening and her face was devoid of emotion. She said, “Perhaps we can preserve what we have. I will be satisfied even with 70% of it.”
He looked at his watch as if he wanted to beg the hands to move faster and reveal that it would soon be time to go, and he had to leave and be at the airport shortly.
He said: “I have to leave now but I will think of your words seriously. Who knows, maybe you may receive a message from me telling you when I will be back.”
She smiled with tears in her eyes and said, ” Then go without a goodbye.”
She continued to write to him and he was always replied.
Time began to weaken the links and everything began to turn into a pale shadow and fade away.
Under the candlelight, with Leonard Cohen’s songs and a Portuguese bottle of wine in the middle of the table, he said to his girlfriend, “Let me show you these letters, and how much this blonde woman loved me.”
She replied as she looked into his eyes, “When would you show my messages to another woman?”
He looked at her with a vague smile, saying nothing. In his own mind that was a satisfactory response.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- *Material should not be published in another periodical before at least one year has elapsed since publication in Whispering Dialogue. *أن لا يكون النص قد تم نشره في أي صحيفة أو موقع أليكتروني على الأقل (لمدة سنة) من تاريخ النشر. *All content © 2021 Whispering Dialogue or respective authors and publishers, and may not be used elsewhere without written permission. جميع الحقوق محفوظة للناشر الرسمي لدورية (هَمْس الحِوار) Whispering Dialogue ولا يجوز إعادة النشر في أيّة دورية أخرى دون أخذ الإذن من الناشر مع الشكر الجزيل
