Luna [A Short Love Story]

I get on the bus. For the first time in months there is an available sit next to the window. I put my headphones on and the first thing that sounds is Debussy's Claire de Lune. It has rained all afternoon and beautiful drops of dead bodies have slipped through the window into contact with the surface. I see around me: long, exhausted faces, lost in their thoughts, in their debts and their hardships. I see my reflection in the window and I look like them, and that's where my journey begins. What will have happened to Luna? Was it worth it to go so far? And if I had gone with her, everything would be different? how many wonderful places I ruined because I was with the wrong woman, how many songs I stopped in time for moments that now hurt me. Like this piece, the musical background of my whole life. Someday I will leave this city and I will discover myself. I will not cry for love, I will cry for passion for living, even when Luna has already left. She's fine, wherever she is, and I do not care, well, I care a little; I just want to know if at this precise moment he thinks of me, if in her headphones our same song still sounds.