Pablo Luis González
1976. The man is in a long distance coach. Destination? The international airport, two hours away. It is early in the morning, he is still yawning. Suddenly, a flash of gold and blue on the outer area of his vision caught his attention. She was there, in her blue school uniform, her blonde long hair lighting up her standard attire, probably in her way to her school, the German College in Valparaíso. She was very young, much younger than he was. The man had shied away from befriending her because of that. He was afraid to break her, her delicate features, her school successes, of which he had had glimpses.
Sometimes, coming back from university, he would share a bus with her, and her friends, too. Always at a distance, titillating near the point of collapsing, like a tremor urging to be released as an earthquake which would had ripened his heart out of his chest, laid bare for her to see it.
That morning, he whispered a silent farewell.
So many years have flown away, yet she is still in his heart. Especially, in the silence of the night.
At night, there is always a light on in his bedroom.