The Next Day.

Sometimes he has conversations with her while she is not there. Let’s talk about dreams she says. “What did you dream of becoming when you were a child ?” I can’t really say. It is hard for me to put a finger on what I wanted to become. My mind is always running about . They say I am a daydreamer.
“But that doesn’t have anything to do with what you dreamed of becoming as a child?”, she says. Well you are right? One thing, I wanted to be a doctor. “Why a doctor?, she asks, her eyes pondering him, her face full of interest. I don’t know, I think, maybe as a child I got sick too often that the only profession that held any meaning at all for me was a doctor’s, the prospect of healing. “Isn’t that sweet she says, she touching his hand. There is a space of silence. They are seated at a table with a perfect circular top, big enough for only their hands, allowing a little more space for the cups of drinks. They are facing each other and can hardly avoid each others eyes. “What about you ?”, he breaks the silence , what did you dream of as a child? I think just like you, I dreamed of many things and nothing. But, I can say I have always wanted to be happy. I think my happiness was more important than what it was that I was supposed to do? “So are you happy now?”, I don’t know…. she says with a tremor, somewhat embarrassed. He looks at her, smiles and looks down to pick up the cup to drink its content. It was a chocolate smoothie. Chocolate is one those things that he has unconscious like for. He was always eating something with chocolate in it but he never says to anyone I like chocolate. A little shiver passes over him, a certain thought had occurred to him. Many thoughts are always occurring to him. He tries to forget them. He tries to focus on her. She is looking away, trying to give him a drinking space, maybe. They both start to feel a certain pull and push energy in the space between them. She looks at him now , he was looking at her. He looks down for a second and looks up again. There is no urge. No urge to touch her. This confuses him. He feels there is a need to do something right now, perhaps to squeeze her hands … but there is nothing. Nothing. She wants to kiss him, but she doesn’t want to initiate it. It must be him, otherwise she fears … it would be a weakness. He squeezes her hand. Let’s leave, he says. They walk out hand in hand.