5. Memories are the past.

There were tears, incomprehension, pain, a lot of pain, too much for one woman. She needed to get out of her past, but she didn´t want to. He is her life, now yet, and the past is the place where she meets him. She sewed the past with the present. At the end the past always returns.

***

The day after tomorrow, the notebook was resting under the bed. She has promised herself, She wasn´t going to read it again. But this morning the broom pulled off the past. She opened it scared.

We arrived together (we always did everything together) at the railway- station.

People. How many people?

There were newspapers for everybody. The newspapers were masks. I didn´t see tears, neither incomprehension, nor pain.

- Come on please, go home! -he said to me- I´ll be great. Believe me.

- Only a favour.- I waited smiling. He said yes with his eyes- Come back- he smiled- soon.

He took the train and I stayed on the platform.

I know he looked for me as I looked for him. It was our play.

I was behind the baggage claim, but today, he couldn´t find me.

I think he was behind the paper´s mask, but today, I couldn´t find him.

Today we lost both.

When the train began its travel to the hell, at this moment, I always remembered that, I had got the first retch.

When she closed the notebook, she looked: her incomprehension, her pain and she felt her tears.

By Carlos Muñoz Novo.