Around noon the fretful ticking of the clock has suddenly stopped. The air became damp and thick. Once crisp, the reality transformed into a distant play, slowly narrowing the observable picture to the size of a puddle-screen at my feet.
– The ashes of time have covered your flame.
A woman with red lipstick appeared in front of me. Only her lips could be seen, as she was pursing them. Those velvet cushions, begging for a touch.
I could not take my eyes off her fingers, slowly reaching the lower part of her face. Covering her mouth. Shaking as a branch of a young tree in a whiff of a ruinous storm.
– I beg you, stay. She needs a father.
The smell of her hair enveloped me, penetrating my soul through the pores of my skin. That trail of her perfume I could never forget. Lilac and night.
A shining stream has flown down her chin. I slowly buried my fingers in her hair, pulling her head to my chest. Hiding my face in the cloud of her curls, I wished the time would stop.
Tick.
The clock was on its way, when I opened my eyes.
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