LAST
NIGHT, A CLOSE
friend of mine did want to die. So did I.
She told me her betraying story. Same one I’d
been hearing all those days she’d been immersed in despair. That she strolled
someplace in this city and then, somewhere on the streets, in her sight
registered a familiar face. A man clinging to someone else, a girl. The man
she’d seen just some time ago, during which made her think she’d been over it. That
the feeling was over, that she was fine. Only, seeing him with someone else this
time made her realize the contrary. In my head I could hear something else as
she talked. I knew there had to be another source of her panic attack this
time. And she knew it too. She wanted to buy a property, a place of her own. A
home. But the circumstances did not allow her. She’d planned to get a house three
or four weeks ago, I guess. Or maybe she’d been planning all along. All her
life maybe? Something out of my knowledge to grasp.
