I am in a supermarket and a young lady crosses my way. I have a flash: it's been 18 years since we don't see each other, but her blue eyes didn't change.
She's at the yogurt department and I look at her, not sure whether to come by or pretend I didn't see her. The thought of having made one of my usual mistakes that I will soon write in my blog is growing bigger and bigger in my head.
We used to go to the same tennis course, and even if I went there by bike, we used to walk together a piece of our way home.
She is a year older than me, she used to tell me I'm perceptive, and she's been my first crush (excluding Silvia from the nursery school, to whom I never had the courage to say a word).
As an adult, I've been still thinking about her, asking myself how her life could be now.
So I get close:
- Cristina?
She turns in a way I'm not sure it's because I called her using her name or it's just because I'm close.
She looks at me and no bells ring in her eyes.
- Hi... I'm Bartolo... we used to play tennis together... you had short haircut and the brace [and a blue jumpsuit with thin yellow lines on the hips...].
She looks at me with that cold courtesy a young lady uses when she thinks OMG, a maniac! He's been secretly following me for 18 years and now he has found the courage to come out, right now in this so crowdy place! What can I do now?
She smiles and says:
- Wow, from the tennis times, what a memory!
But I believe she's just climbing the mirrors.
- You don't remember me, is it? Bartolo, how many do you know with this name?!?
- The name is not completely new to me, but I can't associate it to a b... to a f... to nothing.
In my mind since the moment I first saw her to the one I went to the yogurt department I wanted to ask her how was she, what was she doing, how was her life, and if she was happy, I wanted to ask her what happened in her life in the past 18 years and wanted to tell her that it was nice to see her.
Instead, I smile at her and say:
- Well, so it's better to cut short the pleasantry of the repatriation, otherwise it risks to get embarrassing.
- You can say hello when you see me - she says gently. A sentence I could accept if she were Sofia Loren.
Isn't it incredible how a relationship between two people for someone means so much and for the other one nothing?
She's at the yogurt department and I look at her, not sure whether to come by or pretend I didn't see her. The thought of having made one of my usual mistakes that I will soon write in my blog is growing bigger and bigger in my head.
We used to go to the same tennis course, and even if I went there by bike, we used to walk together a piece of our way home.
She is a year older than me, she used to tell me I'm perceptive, and she's been my first crush (excluding Silvia from the nursery school, to whom I never had the courage to say a word).
As an adult, I've been still thinking about her, asking myself how her life could be now.
So I get close:
- Cristina?
She turns in a way I'm not sure it's because I called her using her name or it's just because I'm close.
She looks at me and no bells ring in her eyes.
- Hi... I'm Bartolo... we used to play tennis together... you had short haircut and the brace [and a blue jumpsuit with thin yellow lines on the hips...].
She looks at me with that cold courtesy a young lady uses when she thinks OMG, a maniac! He's been secretly following me for 18 years and now he has found the courage to come out, right now in this so crowdy place! What can I do now?
She smiles and says:
- Wow, from the tennis times, what a memory!
But I believe she's just climbing the mirrors.
- You don't remember me, is it? Bartolo, how many do you know with this name?!?
- The name is not completely new to me, but I can't associate it to a b... to a f... to nothing.
In my mind since the moment I first saw her to the one I went to the yogurt department I wanted to ask her how was she, what was she doing, how was her life, and if she was happy, I wanted to ask her what happened in her life in the past 18 years and wanted to tell her that it was nice to see her.
Instead, I smile at her and say:
- Well, so it's better to cut short the pleasantry of the repatriation, otherwise it risks to get embarrassing.
- You can say hello when you see me - she says gently. A sentence I could accept if she were Sofia Loren.
Isn't it incredible how a relationship between two people for someone means so much and for the other one nothing?
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