What it was wrote on that sheet of paper.
It was a handwritten.
I knew was yours.
With a quick glimpse, I looked at you wandering, nervously around the room.
I hadn’t said still nothing.
At the end you was sit down on the other small armchair, letting me the sofa, all for me, but in your deepest you knew I wanted you next to me.
Finally, you to sit down close to me, and you asked: “Can I…?” touching sweetly my hand that was tightening that piece of paper.
With deep voice, you have taken the courage to speak, letting apart the sheet of paper.
Your glance was as lost in a vacuum, but after a second later you started to talk.
“Since we met in that bar… I felt need to write something, me too”.
I started to write a lot: all in these sheets of papers…”
What was about happening?
It was what does was I’ve always waited for?
You taken again the sheet of paper in hand, and without realizing, you started to reading what was you wrote.”