What it was wrote on the sheet.
It was a handwritten.
Without asking, i knew, it was yours.
I was looking at you with a rapid glimpse.
You roamed, nervousely around the room. I didnt say you still nothing, but at the end you was sit down on the other chair, letting me all for me, the sofa. But with my eyes, i wanted you next to me.
Finally you have decided to sit down close to me and you have asked me ‘Can i…?’ touching sweetly my hand that holded the sheet.
With your deep voice, you have had take the courage to speak, letting apart the sheet, for a moment.
You had your glance, as lost in a vacuum, and you have started to talk to me.
‘Since we met in that bar… when i came back home, i have felt need to write something.
I have started to write a lot. All in these sheets…’
You stopped yourself.
What was about happening. It was what does was i’ve always waited for?
You had always your sheet in hand, and without realizing, you have started to reading what was you wrote”