In the morning, two Facebook notifications, one text message, and a friend request came to my phone. “I really liked your stories,” said the message, both the message and the friend request came from the same person. Curious, I accepted and checked their photos, hoping it wasn’t a fake profile. To my surprise, it was a beautiful woman with alluring swimsuit pictures, but that had nothing to do with my exhaustive review.

Sitting on her bed, she lazily lay with her back turned after waking up. I picked up her guitar and asked, “Mind if I play some music?.” “Never,” she quickly replied, “but, it’s raining now and I want to hear the rain for a while.” She said while clumsily moving the guitar away to rest her head on my lap. I gently placed the guitar on the floor, gazing at her for a while, not long after I woke up. I was still sitting there, with the pictures of what seemed to be a admirer on my phone’s screen. I had dreamt of that afternoon, a past moment I longed to relive.

After noon, a new message arrived: “Thanks for accepting me, can I ask you something?” Unable to resist a little smille comes from me, and I couldn’t do anything but to embrace that hope. My plan was to start a conversation from that question, that would intertwine our lives, and like that relive those distant memories, reaching that something, that essence of my lost soul in the past.

“Ask away!” I replied immediately. “I’m working on an internet marketing project and looking for people…”

I didn’t bother reading the rest or continuing the conversation. I looked at her profile photos one last time, imagining her inviting me for a Sunday afternoon swim while wearing one of those provocative swimsuits. As I removed her from my friends’ list, I wondered what hope I could have when the memories I wanted to relive were part of a dream that the destiny enjoys watching me fail to fulfill?. It is cruel, it lets me graze it my fingertips before pulling it back from me just enought to be out of my reach.

I gently touched her cheek, the rain drowns out those words and strange noises she makes while asleep. Her room’s walls are light blue and the carpet is dark blue. She told me that she decorated the room like that to appear to be sleeping peacefully in the middle of the ocean. I looked away from her, and the guitar seemed to float away in water. As it vanished on the horizon, I woke up, on my way to visit her.

When I visit, I clean a bit and place fresh flowers, her favorites, a sunflower and a tulip. She used to play with their petals. Sometimes I lay on the marble slab, telling her everything since our last talk. Other times, I get lost in time, rushing out because I’m late. I always leave uneasy, feeling bad, I never ask about how her love life is going…

Category: story