One dull November evening, Amalia kissed him. Without any warning, without having planned it, without even knowing for sure what she wanted, one evening she stopped thinking, she just reacted. He was bringing her home after a night out with friends, he had stopped in front of her building, but she didn’t get out of the car, waiting for him to finish his sentence. The moment his voice died out, Amalia turned her head towards him, she was thinking of telling him goodnight, but then she saw him, the way he was looking her right in the eyes, half smiling, polite, but clearly ardent, uninhibited, unafraid. That’s when she realised the only thing she could do was place her right hand on the back of his neck and just kiss him, while his arm was already pulling her close to him. She had no idea about it, but she was half smiling too; as she was getting out of the car, a glimpse of her face in the side mirror reflected an expression very similar to his.
The sensation of that dreary November night would follow her like a sweet ghost for a long time afterwards – a dear friend she thought so fondly about, wondering at times whether she would ever forget it or manage to overcome it. That kiss had changed something, an undeniable fact that couldn’t be overlooked and Amalia was aware of it, but also somewhat indifferent to it. I can find a parking space… You could invite me upstairs… The woman shifted on the comfortable sofa, still looking at the flowers and smiling at the not so distant memory of little things.
If you want to read Parallel Lives, click on any of the following links:
…. and iBooks, of course. 🙂