prier

Cartea cu barza îşi ia zborul în buzunarul frontal al rucsacului ei încăpător. Privim împreună pe geam, cel mai probabil la lucruri diferite. Îşi aşază braţele în poală şi mă examinează de după genele prelungi:

-So, who’s the girl?
-Which one?
-The one you’re looking for.
-I never said anything about a girl.
-But I did. So?
-Yeah. Mm. It’s someone I met… once upon a time, somewhere.
–Once upon a time?
-Yes.
-Sounds like a sad story to me.
-It’s a jolly one, actually.
-Do tell.
-What?
-The story. Come on, I’m bored.
-I got to say, you have exactly her eyes when you say something like that.
-That’s so wrong. Pretty much everyone agrees that I have my mother’s eyes.
-Don’t make this weird.
-But we already acknowledged: I am weird, you are weird, this is weird. And now that I pronounced three times the magic word, I’m either expecting Beetlejuice or a proper answer to my question.
-Would you stop sounding like her too and maybe take a nap, please?
-Without a story?
-I said please.
-First define “exactly her eyes”.
-Sort of a somber joyfulness, or rather a reserved playfulness, like that of a child who stubbornly wants a unique, specific toy, without ever getting it, eventually realizing, as a grown-up, that that toy never even existed or will exist in reality.
-You’re totally making this up.
-Since I can’t craft toys.
-Now the real story.
-No.

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