Love is a click...

{Part of my novel under the title "Love is a click" that was written in 2000}

“You are my last thought at night and the first one in the morning,” she recalled his words which were also hers the moment she woke up the next morning. She made a cup of coffee and she went out in the balcony to drink it. She sat at the table and looked around. Everything was green, the birds were singing, her rambling roses in full bloom were hugging the house. The air was scented and was promising of a wonderful day to come. Warm Greek spring. It 

was always marvelous. She was drunk by the beauty around her and felt so lonely..…

Two days ago, when they had last chatted, he had asked her to do him a favour

 before she went to bed.

-What do you want me to do?

-Go out into the garden and stay there for me for a while.

-Ok, I will listen to the nightingales mating.

-Don’t mention this word.

-Do u mind the word? [she teased him.]

-Since I know u r alone there…

-I won’t be alone…I’ll be with u…

-I will be there too. Hugging u and whispering into your ear words that

 are unspeakable…

-Say them…

-No.

-Say them now…

-Love…

-What? I can’t hear u.

-Love, please go….

-I will. With your presence next to me….

She did. The night was warm and the nightingales were there. Mating. 

He was not there to whisper into her ear. She looked up in the sky. 

The stars were twinkling, smiling at her. “Greece is an exotic place,”

 he had once told her. “It isn’t,” she had answered, “it’s not like Barbados.”

 “Compared to where I live, it is.” He insisted. He had been right. 

Greece was an exotic place. A dream place. However, she was in the 

garden alone. “Where are you?” she asked. There was no answer. “Why

 should I feel the warm night alone? Why should I listen to the birds 

alone? Why should I be illusioned to feel your presence? Who do I owe

 all this torment? What have I done in my life to be punished this way?”

She went upstairs and lay in bed. What was happening to her was schizophrenic. She was lying next to her husband but had convinced herself that she was lying next to him. “If this isn’t an illusion, what is it then?” she thought. “Good night love, far away passion…” was her last thought before she fell asleep that night.

And now it was morning. A spring wonderful morning and she was 

sitting there alone. “Damn it” she thought, “I can’t stand this loneliness.

 Why isn’t he here with me? We would be sitting one opposite the other

 talking, laughing, enjoying the spring morning, getting warm by the 

sun and the pleasure of having each other.” She looked at her watch. 

It was nine in the morning. “Your time” as he used to say. It was seven 

for him. He must have woken up by now, getting ready to go to work,

 drive the four miles across town to get there and probably it would 

be raining and it would be dark. The rain would be cold and he would 

be feeling miserable. He would be thinking of her, while listening to 

a song they both loved on the radio. “Hope it will be a sunny day 

there today. No rain. Just to make you feel you are in the same

 country with me. Have a nice day sweet heart. Either rainy or not.

 Be sure my thought is with you and will follow you all day. 

Be well and happy. I’ll be thinking of you.”

She got up and went inside the house. There were a lot to do today.

 She would cook for him, clean the house for him, go for a walk in

 the sun for him, touch the roses in the garden for him, listen to

 the birds singing for him, smell the spring fresh air for him, taste

 a bitter chocolate for him. She would be illusioned by the thought

 that she was expecting him to come back from work in the evening.