Colors

I ran again this morning. Beating of my feet can't compare with the beating of my heart or the dramaticm with which my face hits the pavement.

We ran up the mountain. We kicked the soccer ball back and forth, rythm as consistent as a pendulum.

He said he will never talk to me again. I called his name outside the dressing room and he only glared at me and spat out Spanish sentences of how we would never talk again. I cried for a while, but then I died inside and everyone knows dead people can't cry. I wiped away my tears and memories and kept on walking right beside him.


After the sun peeked out from behind the mountains the valley lit up splendidly. I watched trees leaves turn green in seconds and grass go from an indistinct dark mass to sharp blades. Apricots showed their true colors and the red of my shorts again matched the red of my shirt.

It was beautiful.