I can see the towers of the hotel as the taxi approaches the entrance, as if
it were a palace, and I were the princess who inhabits it. Unlike the fairy
tales I read so many times when I was younger, I don’t have a prince
waiting for me this time. As I enter the room, I see the crystal chandelier
hanging above the coffee table and chairs—all that furniture you dragged
out of our way so we could dance. You wanted to dance under the stars,
you told me, pointing at the lamp and letting out a smile. With every
curve of your smile, it was as if the room lit up a little more, as if all the
good things in life had gathered there on your face for a moment of pure,
adorable happiness. That night when you danced as if you knew our lives
would never be the same again. You drew a heart on the condensed glass
in the bedroom, with our initials inside—H&M.
I’m brought back to reality by the cold autumn breeze coming through
the corridor window, and I realize I’m standing in the doorway of the
bedroom. I walk in and lie down on the bed, staring at the elaborate
patterns on the ceiling. You’ve shown me colours that you know I can’t see
with anyone else. And the truth is, I don’t want to see those vivid colours,
like last autumn’s, with anyone else but you.
