It starts with a smile from across the room. A silly joke from my side, rolling eyes and a grin from hers. An exchange of numbers, a cup of coffee, a lunch, a dinner. The foundation on which we built our sand- and sky castles.
A stranger becomes an acquaintance, an acquaintance becomes a friend, a lover and a reason to extend my stay.
She is as good as it gets. Her body makes her clothing the happiest fabrics on earth, her set of perfect teeth makes toothpaste burst out of its packaging. Her whiskey eyes make me drunk on her. She always makes me want one more sip, one more touch of our lips.
With her words drenched in intellect she takes me to college. With her actions she teaches me life lessons. Every phrase she utters multiplies my brain cells.
The only thing on par with her intelligence is her kindness. Sometimes I expect a halo to appear, wings to unfold and for her to lift off. She makes me wonder if she’s actually a doctor or an angel in disguise. Saving lives and sinners, all while fooling humanity.
The majority of my time in Argentina is spent with her. And I wouldn’t have it any other way. Mrs. Bright Colours and the Man in Black. She’s marvelous, she deserves the world, even though our worlds will soon part.
We are temporary because of choices I made, temporary because of choices I’ll make. The last night commences. The moment with a taste ever so bittersweet. Dreadful to let go, grateful to have been.
We say the words we still wanted to say. I assure her of her greatness. Attempt to evaporate any insecurity she might have and repeat how she has all the reason to consider her confidence forever bulletproof. I tell her that her nature grants her a lifelong open invitation to wherever it is that I may plant my feet.
I hop in the taxi and wave once more. I catch a final glimpse of her in the rearview mirror and drive into her memory. My heart tears open, she steps inside and sews it shut (the perks of dating a doctor). She lays down in the luxurious mansion behind the scar. Making herself comfortable in the place she will forever have in my heart.
Thoughts are running marathons through my mind.
The taxi driver turns up the radio. The most relevant song possible comes on. “… ‘Cause boys don’t cry, Boys don’t cry.” They might not. But minutes before sunrise, in a taxi somewhere far from a non-existent home, grown men come close.
Thank you, my dear. Te quiero un montón.
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I wrote a novel! It’s available on: https://www.amazon.com/Vic-Koopmans-ebook/dp/B0B6TC4WX9/ref=mp_s_a_1_1?crid=GWSYPFYSYYSU&keywords=vic+koopmans+head+first&qid=1658281167&sprefix=vic+koopmans+headfirst%2Caps%2C127&sr=8
Ach man, dat is een zware dobber. Hou je haaks.