Chapter 36
Miles
Saturday
It’s the end of the day, before the sky turns pink.
I stroll alone through the city’s vast garden.
I always pass by the fountain, I like to imagine the wishes that were attached to the coins that sank there.
I like to sit thoughtlessly in the shade of a tree.
I like to listen to the birds singing and notice how they know their place in the choreography they plan in the sky, and that there’s a specific spot where there’s always someone feeding them crumbs.
I walk through all those kilometers of green, no buildings or cars in sight. I like how this garden reminds me of a home I once knew. Of greenery, of nature, of the joy I found while learning to fall in love with the countryside, and more.
Ironic, how once upon a time, this wasn’t who I thought I was.
Nowadays, I constantly find myself changing my route to wander here, to escape the city’s hustle and bustle.
Suddenly, something slows my pace.
A girl in a long blue dress lies on a blanket in the grass.
She looks all too familiar. Her hair is illuminated by the golden hour sun, and a pencil tucked behind her ear holds back one of her blonde locks.
She’s wearing an oversized brown jacket over her blue dress, light blue gloves, and is holding a book up toward the sky.
I feel confused and hesitant.
My heart reacts, like someone suddenly waking up from a troubled dream. I approach slowly, my brain searching for words, any words, that might form a sentence.
It has to be. Could it be...?
It can’t be.
It’s been a while since I saw her in another woman. Since my mind last imagined her face in a stranger’s.
I don’t know what I’m thinking. But my heart apparently does. It speeds up in a way it hasn’t for some time.
“Not possible. So many years have passed, and so many times over those years you saw her in the crowd. And all those times, she was never there,” I murmur to myself, shaking the fervent nervousness away.
Is she here?
Reluctant to take another step forward, I stop and observe.
A few brief minutes seem infinitely long.
I see her lower her book and meet my gaze; her serene face painted with freckles.
And this time… there she is.