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II

Today I decided to pack my bags and go back to my old hometown. I grabbed the next bus, payed my ticket and placed my bags on the compartment. It was a quiet trip, if it weren’t for the guy in the back snoring, and a young woman with soft brown hair arguing fiercefully to the man sitting next to her.
“it wasn’t like that!” he said. “don’t bullshit me, I’ve seen you like her photos on facebook” she said. “what does that have to do with anything” he returned, And she ended with seconds of silence and a “fuck you”. These two people were sitting together and were arguing about what his finger did on a cellphone. “Would she be this upset if instead of double clicking on his phone he had fingered some grocery clerk behind the counter?” I wondered. Some minutes passed and I glanced at the window. Watched the buildings and the malls and the busy freeways run past me and everything turned to green and old  farm houses. I arrived at last. Got my bags out of the bus, looked at the clock and figured it was a decent enough time to go have a drink. 
I started walking, and the streets seemed empty. The crowds had been replaced by brown yellowie leafs falling on the pavement, the car horns were now the birds chirping and it all felt nice. In the distance I saw my old quioske. A little squared space in the middle of a park, with a couple chairs and empty tables. I got next to the counter and ordered a beer. From behind the counter, out came this perky blonde, with glasses on her face and a top that did justice to the size of her breasts. I knew her. And she knew me. I smiled and gracefully said “hey, how've you been?”. She stared at me in awe and barely any sort of language came out of her mouth. “h---hi”. She was fucking me with her eyes and I could tell. Though there was something off about it. As if she wanted to tie me up, grab me by the troat and fuck the poison out out of me. I smiled at her, grabbed my beer and sat down in one of the chairs. She was exactly the same. Still beautiful, still thin, but there was something beneath her eyes. A sence of defeat. It caught my eye, and I wanted to see it again. So I drank the entire glass, got up, lit up a cigarette and asked for another one. She poured it down, looked at me again, and now, her warned out hands, and dried out lips made me clearly see it. I was older, she was older, but we were in two completly different places in time. This city had taken her hostage. And she didn’t want salvation. She just wanted me to leave.

 

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