She waited for her without ever seeing sunrise or sunset

She was waiting for her that day too, like every other day, while she was lighting a cigarette the one that should have been the last as she was saying, trying to clear her head. Her thoughts, without stopping, light up her face and her skin near the neck. Through the window was seeping in some light. Her days passed to the beat of her thoughts and her hopes passed perpetrating her desires, braking like foam when it met the reality, for this reason her life was spare like her weapons facing the impossibility of a coming, of a comeback, consumed by a long wait.
She was thinking that everytime that she was doing everyday actions, even if it is only prepare a pot.

Every morning she was thinking about L’s voice. The echo of her ghost with the reverberation of those old steps, this was bothering her like it was an eternal resound of her name on her head. Thoughts and shadows that reminded her image, right there at the door of the kitchen.
L. never came home, leaving her defenceless with messy hair and her phlegmatic mannerisms. She was realizing of losing herself: all was different, she wasn’t feeling at home, she was living in the places thatshe wasn’t occupying.
That girl with blonde hair was looking at the infinite, seeing, through her window the traks of L. stationary, without being able to stop her thoughts, she was furrowing her forhead trying to stop them, but among the thin wrinkles, her nightmares are clear on her face, like bright colors. Looking through the mirror saw herself in a storm waiting out.
She was wondering which useless presumption generated her sigh full of anxiety. L’s eyes- that her remebered static and cold- didn’t generate any steps towords her. In those eyes she cansee only a feeble yearning of a kiss, on the cliff, some months ago.
- I’ve noted your rithmyc cadence, but I’ve never been able to keep your pace - was whispering L, tosing and turning, caressing, in the bed folds. She was disappearing day after day as if was evanescent. As time passes she was no longer able to find her.
L disappered in a depp and cold night, with so light step that at the beginning everything looks like a rustle and at the same time a dull period of time.
L was place and time. She didn’t heard her silent escape, she had stolen all her places and her time.
She let her go in the night and L let go.
She noticed, a few days before, on the asphalt of the coast wher they were walking, that even if they were together they were still so far away. To know that she can’t belong to her was enough hug her: she was gone, she never ran. She run away.
Standing at her window, she felt like she saw her walkig, distant in the most beautiful and dangerous corners of the city. She was still seeing her run away yelling at the wall of the silence. She noticed in that moment that her voice was silent. L hadn’t spoken she never spoke to her.
“She never laid her hands on me, but she thought she caresing me, maybe she would have want but always forgotten to do it”.
In this way the illusion to wait grew, standing at her window, and that would change the destinetion of L’s steps. She would come back and than she would have resisted her, hold her, hugh her, however distant, talk to her in silence, she can’t resist her, she isn’t able to resist her; it was an unavoidable agony, again the place and time.

She come back from her thought when the pot goes off. She poured the coffee and come back to the window to wait for her, behind the opaque glass of that window.
“I would have waited for you always and never I saw you come back”, she let out a whisper.