The mysterious mist hovering that night, as M. wandered the streets with a slow but steady. He had been to the theater with friends, but she had not wanted to come, told him that it would wait at his house. Yes, at his home.
The mist still hovered, more mysterious, hiding the smile of M., fog canceled his solitary walk. Yes, his solitary walk. The gaiety of the room where
M. had stopped to drink wine with friends after the show, had a taste of the moment would see her, leaning against the door of his apartment, the hair, anxious for the happiness of being able to embrace.
dispatch from M. was introduced in the tentacles of the city, lit a cigarette to calm the excitement and smoked nervously, in a very short time. Then began to run furiously, the flame which animated his blood that race held her until he reached the gate of the gardens. Deftly stepped over him and took, among all, the most beautiful rose garden that adorned the hedges. Yes, that's the most beautiful.
her house was now very close and when he saw from a distance, he felt a bit 'tired. There was a strange light coming from a window of his apartment. Yes, a strange light.
M. came up with a slow and erratic, clutching a rose in her hands, smiling. And the mysterious mist hovering that night. Yes, that very night.
M. went to the window. And he saw everything.
The rose clutched in his hands remained on the window sill and when the rain bombarded, reducing it to a humble stalk, M. was already far away.
He walked a long time that night, the rain would not have defeated and no light would loose fog, which continued to twirl mysteriously.
Summer 1994
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