"In this fast-moving city, we are allowed to leave a space for each other that will not be disturbed."
At two o'clock in the night, the rain flowed down the window glass, washing the neon lights into a wet and warm color.
The world moves so fast, and everyone is desperate for answers. He is anxious to put his hand out, and he is anxious to take his heart back. Anxious to get closer, but also eager to give a decent definition of the relationship.
But there are always moments when we just want to turn off all the lights, allow ourselves to remain silent for a long time, allow ourselves to put our phones on the table and not reply to messages, and allow ourselves to take a step back when we are most tired.
This is not a story about salvation. It's just that in a cold, wary world, two sober souls, clumsily, slowly, and extremely decently, handed each other an umbrella.
"You can say no."
This is not rejection, but the deepest protection we give each other on a stormy night; it is also the most decent self-esteem we leave to ourselves.
