The sweet face of melancholy
This autumn afternoon was completely different from the others. The grey clouds had spread over the city and the rain was falling slowly giving the impression that it would last forever. The view from the second-floor window was not at all spectacular. You could see the many cars and motorbikes on the busy street, on the wide sidewalk the hurried passers-by were holding in their hand’s umbrellas of different sizes and colors. Creating a colorful image on this dark day.
But what focused her attention was the pâtisserie across the street. It was crowded due to the rainy weather and the time. Hot drinks and delicious desserts harmoniously accompanied the endless discussions of the guests. Also, some came in and out to buy delicacies for the home or office. The reputation of these sweets had long ago exceeded the limits of this area.
With all this mobility could not go unnoticed the moment when an elegant lady, in her forties, wearing an impressively fitted brown wrap coat, opened the door to enter the store. Her long brown hair fell lightly on her shoulders. The confidence and stability of her gait betrayed her dynamic character. After ordering and paying, she chose to sit at the corner table by the window. She took off her coat and set a blue leather agenda on the table. In her face, she could see a melancholy that for an inexplicable reason made her look even more beautiful. Her gaze was fixed on the road and betrayed the speed with which the thoughts alternated in her mind.
Raising her head, she spotted a blonde young girl looking at her in the opposite window of the second floor. She was holding a green mug with both hands and leaning against the wall with her right shoulder. She was immediately impressed by her blue eyes and expressionless face. Without the two of them reacting, they stared at each other for a few seconds. This unexpected meeting of gloomy faces was interrupted by the waiter who brought the coffee and the impressive piece of mille-feuille.
No one is in the window anymore, but the sweet melancholic visage of the blonde girl was imprinted in her mind. She felt that she had seen herself in the mirror. It is clear now that the puzzle had been completed while she could see the labyrinth of her emotions painted on the look of a stranger. Her mind has been dominated by the thought, to correct the mistake she made two hours before. She took a deep breath and pulled her cell phone out of her purse.
She calls the familiar number on it:
- Hello. I would like to see you. Is it possible to meet and talk?
