E 'and Sunday is the festival in the country. She knows that will see him, and this time for a time a bit 'longer than the usual ten minutes in front of the school. And 'all week waiting.
not to go down to the streets for him, no. But the idea that it will help a lot of his being there.
will definitely be in the company of his girlfriend. You figured , think her, if him, one way, I can never affect a case.
And indeed he is there. And she is happy. And she does not expect anything at all, like all other times. There. Basta.
And when she sees it shrugs and then he watches him from afar, as you do beautiful things to look at that you know you can not touch, nor ever have.
furtive, secretive, curious. It 's just the case, of course, when you cross four eyes turning to look around. I guess that's just me, he looked back at me. Imagine if someone like him is interested in someone like me. He shrugs.
It continues like that, that afternoon, with a laugh friends, not a peep sight, a laugh, a quick peek. Laugh, peek. Bevutina, peek, laugh, peek. Bevutina. There
him with that other, there he laughs and makes silly jokes, he's drinking, he is speaking, is he who listens to him that there if all the hugs and kisses even if, as a whole. That would be a torture, to think from the outside, watching the object of love flirting with another. There is no rational explanation for this self-harm. Maybe it's just a vehicle for the imagination to be able to dream of a day that take place there. Perhaps, however, serves to remove any better hope so, once and for all, you put your heart in peace and lungs stop sigh. Strange, that in the end you never stop hoping.
Indeed, the whole fantasy picks, and if the carrying away, now, she is swept and the passionate kisses with him at the gate of the house are hand in hand around the streets, looks accomplices, congratulations naked bodies joined hands stroking the hair on your face I love you too beautiful for us love you always oh God how did I live without you, luckily I met you love one another again and again and again just now I want to get some sleep ' I've worn it with kisses and caresses but after we start, ok?
In the dream, and dream is that otherwise, he is always craving. Even her, but less.
Fantasy, however, by decree intimate with itself, must be short-lived. To let go because she likes to dream, is also a good fear. For all the fantasies that come true in the long run, fans come to the melancholy, and this melancholy here, in the precise meaning as a sense of loss of something you've ever had. And the sense of loss never had a thing is even worse than the loss of a sense of what had. Why having to let go of one thing you've ever had is like having to let go of the desire, stop, and stop wanting even more afraid to lose what you want, and this is because if we lose the desire is a bit 'as if we lost ourselves. That's scary. Vaccaboia if he does.
Why is this: sometimes it takes a strong fear of losing the very fact of desiring.
So, you think he thinks back to that Sunday afternoon, at one point she just looks away, gets bored, in short, keeps looking at him. Basta. Why wish for tired even in the long run. And so the thought, free from worm that unrequited love can finally go elsewhere.
chatting, playing, laughing.
Until, suddenly, an emergency forces her to the bathroom.
The bathroom is behind the huts on the festival. Who knows what we find here, she thinks. Has made her night, meanwhile, and is a little 'dark there behind. In hidden cavern, the festival of lights that glow does not come. Enter the tomb with water (that is also hard to call process) where it says women , in ink, in a piece of paper stuck up with a hanging strip of scotch. Except that, in shutting the door behind him, one hand holds it. And she also takes a bit 'scared, actually.
's him.
He followed? Impossible. What are you doing here? I do not know. He
, agile and fast as dust, slips behind and enters the small niche provided with water by closing the door behind him, fitting both in there. They look
.
you really do not understand anything. Together they dreamed of his beloved he longed, in the process? And because he has followed?
I fell and died, now I'm dreaming, this is the antechamber of heaven, it must be like a prize, an award they give me into the toilet puzzoso Sunday of the festival, an appropriate premium to my life. I take it, this award, and after I die and go to heaven for sure. It can not be that way.
is running. she is running because he punched in the face of one because it owed him money and now it follows him and he thought to hide in here. In fact it is a perfect hideaway for those who would come in the toilet of women to give a punch to one? At best, it waits outside.
Or I want to kill. Yes, that must be so: he saw that I look at it, maybe I watched too much this week off from school, I did not have that damn cocky I am, on the fringes of stalking. He noticed it and got sick and then kill me. Here, it will go well.
I see. Why are they still looking? is looking for a way to not hurt me, maybe. Maybe my body is trying the famous school of Hokuto point where I kill and do not see how I die and he will never be condemned. Yes, come on, it is. Here he kept looking at his face with insistence.
E 'then that he, without saying a word, takes her head in her hands firmly and saddled a long kiss on the mouth. A simple kiss, the warm touch of his lips collapse. And then there
the spring. And the looks. And smiles.
She, too, that has not even had time to close your eyes (but that really did not want to close them for fear of being dead and that was occurring Option One, that of heaven), she smiles. And then he says:
"You're a boy, I think you're wrong process."
Ride him.
"I have to pee," she says, then watching the water.
him, swaggering, shoulder supports to the wall (if we define the wall), puts his hands in his pocket and wait, silent.
"I beat the piss" reiterates her timidly. "If you do not go away, I do the same now with you here, because I just beat it tightly."
"Do not you dare."
"Yes, but I beat it and now I do."
And so she, since he is not removed from his fair and gallant pose shoulder against the wall hands in his pockets Geims Din, decides to unbutton your pants and do it in a simple and mechanical, without malice, like all days, absent-mindedly devoted to the four operations that are trivial to pee:
slip off his pants, then her pants, sit on the toilet, wait.
him, his shoulder against the wall, looks and smiles. And
she (the survivor died) sitting on the toilet, pants and underwear limp ankles, elbows on knees, hands to hold her face, looks at him with eyes so big. But does not smile much, in truth, because the pee runs real strong.
"So far they are all good," he says. "Now I want to see if you have the courage to do it, if it is down here with me that I'm watching." I have to do it
, think no longer look into his eyes. I do not want to give him some the satisfaction of not being able to pee. And then, if I can pee in front of him, what he will certainly fall in love . He looks
sovrapensiero fingers, then turn your gaze to the cartigenica, that look like concentric circles away for the moment when the wee decides to leave. Push is not needed, it's up to let go instead. What then, if it comes out the first shot is done, you're right. It relaxes
trying not to think that he is there (not easy undertaking), closes his eyes, bows his head slightly back and let themselves go in a short sigh. Comes out, slowly, the first drop liberating heat, followed by the roar of a long and rather enjoyed pissing.
'm not dead killed by my love and I'm finally doing the pee. What I want more, I?
"But you know, you, this here is something much more intimate that if we ever made love?"
She opens her eyes, takes a piece of cartigenica, look at the smiling boy looking Geims Din with his shoulder leaning against the wall, hands in pocket, and wipes. Then he gets up, raises her panties, raises his pants, place the shirt, pulls the water and is standing at the door waiting for him to open it.
Maybe I did fall in love, she thinks. Maybe I'm falling in love
, he thinks.
Then they go out and start, without even looking, each in his direction, proud complicit in a transgressive act of love newborn.
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