Diana Krall played in the background. Already more relaxed after her shower, Julia picked up her wine glass and sat down on the sofa. Staring at the book she had on the small table in front of her, she tried to decide whether to pick it up and let herself be engrossed in her story or pick her up in a pen and write about reality.
She ended up opting for the second option, although the same enthusiasm she had for writing was the same for reading, that is, very little.
With the pen and notebook in her lap, she started by reporting her day. Once she started writing her enthusiasm grew and she simply let the pen glide across the paper. However, when she went to reread what she had written, she realized that she had written as if she were talking to him. And for him I wrote like this:
' Today, when I went into the house and didn't see you, I felt a tightness in my chest. I don't smell you around the house anymore. I miss your laugh, the jokes you used to say out of the blue and that you adapted to any situation. a sleepy 'good night' nor a 'good morning'.
You took me out of your life. You took me out of your heart once more (if I ever had a place of mine) leaving me homeless. Leaving only my nights at the mercy of my tormenting thoughts. I swear I just feel like going out into the street and screaming that I miss you, but only others would listen and those don't interest me. I think what hurts me the most is knowing that even if I had you in front of me and told you that I miss you, you wouldn't mind and you'd turn your back.'
With tears in her eyes, her heart bleeding and her soul shattered, Julia tore the sheet, lit a match and let the fire take away those words that were written with her soul so that no one else would know them.
Merci pour la lecture!