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The unlikely reunion [touch] (3) The reunion

She feels her eyes clear even before he opened the door. Few seconds, leaning out the window, she threw the key to the door below. He looked up the mischievous look, his hand outstretched. And there under the street lamp, Maxime and his smile to make you weep with emotion. It's silly, damn it to the scene of the smile again. Mentally, as he has already entered the hallway, she sees him again get serious air searching for her house number. And then, the image is accelerating, he lifts his head and sourit. Un léger effleurement, elle referme la fenêtre et se précipite dans le dédale de couloirs pour lui ouvrir la porte d'en haut. Le sourire s'est évanoui, mais c'est pire. L'instant est presque grave. Elle se ressaisit, le laisse entrer.
Le thé est brûlant.
...
Mathilda est tendue. Elle sait, elle sent qu'à un moment ou à un autre il va s'arrêter de parler. Il laissera le silence envahir la pièce jusqu'à tendre les murs. Il lui prendra la main, ou bien se lèvera et s'approchera. Elle n'aimera pas ce moment là. Elle est déjà trop fragile, répandue sur l'assise de sa chaise. Elle s'imagine. Pourtant encore droite, le geste gracile, the voice a little low and safe. But his expression? His eyes should betray her grave. Indeed, it is already there, standing before her. The gaze is troubled, but his hand is soft. He is the face. In his head it was panic. Flee, to cry with emotion as strangles or quickly compose and improvise, as she learned to do it, "the femme fatale." She has no time to choose. It will take the lead, so does its survival time. The
moment.
Their mouths are, their bodies are mixed with astonishing mastery, intimacy, complicity immediate ... They will
pas l'amour. Ce garçon là, lit dans ses pensées enfouies, archaïques. Il est tard, le énième thé est brûlant. Elle l'invite à dormir près d'elle. Elle n'a pas besoin de préciser. Il s'endort.
Elle retrouve enfin le cours de ses pensées. Une étrange lumière de nuit nimbe la chambre. Elle le regarde émue. Que lui arrive-t-il ? Elle est submergée.
Elle s'écarte un peu. Il gémit et commence à trembler légèrement. Qu'a-t-il ? Elle touche son front, il est trempé de sueur. Il gémit toujours. C'en est presque inquiétant. Elle lui caresse les cheveux. Il se redresse brusquement et lui dit la voix enrayée : "j'ai rêvé que je tenais mon enfant dans les bras et qu'il m'échappait, me glissait des mains, c'était affreux !"Il retombe sur l'oreiller et se rendort alors que Mathilda lançait déjà une ébauche d'interprétation. Elle reste étonnée et dubitative. Il se remet à trembler. Elle pose une main rassurante sur son épaule, il se tourne et s'enroule à elle, s'apaise et reprend une respiration lente et profonde.
Mathilda ne peut plus bouger, elle n'a pas eu le temps de prendre une position confortable. Son bras commence à "mourir". Elle tente de se dégager, il s'accroche un peu plus. Elle le garde là au creux, résignée. Elle ne s'endort pas. Entre deux eaux, it opens. He enters, he enters. She falls asleep within minutes
early morning. Already the sky is tinged with pink. She wakes with a start, he said last night he had to leave at 7.30 to the art gallery. It is 7.15. She tries to wake him. Impossible. It opens and closes one eye.
Mathilda gets up and make coffee. It passes into the bathroom to wash his teeth, looks. She looks mornings that go well. Hair tousled to perfection, rings pretty. My faith, no need to do more. Again she tried to wake him. He growls. She reminds him that he should already be gone, but after all, she cares. He deigns to open his eyes. She sits on the bed in a bathrobe. He offers a smile while asleep, and said: "What you're beautiful morning" ...
Slowly, he takes his time. He drinks coffee with her, light and relaxed. Mathilda has a heavy heart the idea that it goes away. She did not want to. She wants to stop time. She already anticipates a "night-night." She recounts her strange behavior at night. He was surprised, he does not remember.
He hugs, kisses and leaves. She leans on the balcony. He smiled. He's gone. Mathilda
almost furiously wipes her eyes misted. Shit, but what is this devastating emotion. This is nonsense! The impression that he snatched from a song.

to follow ...

El Desnudo De Pati Manterola

unlikely [the meeting] (2)

It was agreed that Mathilda and the young man found the theater in the company of a friend of hers. The framework is sufficiently neutral and allow time to observe Mathilda "the character".
She asks him to send a picture to be able to recognize. The photo sent to him evokes nothing. A young man neither beautiful nor ugly. The photo is not of good quality, against the light darkens the face. In short, whatever. His name Maxim.
Carolina advanced to the wicket to get the tickets. Mathilda waits outside the entrance Maxime. It happens. She only sees her smile. A smile to die for. Emotion came out of nowhere came over. That smile and aquamarine eyes of the young man swept past her resistance. His intuition, very fine usually do not tell him. No voiceover, no warning sign. Only his conflicting emotions. This upheaval was absolutely unspeakable not included in the program. Mathilda is destabilized. This boy moves and instantly attracts more than is reasonable.
Throughout the play, is fighting to remove Mathilda the pervasive presence that gives him Maxime at his side. Unable to concentrate on the show. They agree to meet again the next evening to drink tea in a place she loves. A coffee-brac. In this place, everything is for sale. The cup which we drink, to the chair in which sits comfortably. The scenery is picturesque and varied styles all mixed together.
She chose a dark red sofa in gilt frames. An art deco lamp emits a soft light, and particularly enchanting. It's like entering a novel in the middle of the story. However, she does not remember the beginning. But instinctively she is not lost. She knows, already recognized in his gestures, in attitudes, in his strange way of looking at it. She drowns in confidence in her eyes the color of water. It melts into a smile. The discussion is fluid, warm atmosphere. The attraction deliciously flat all around them, without evocative gesture. May be a similarity in posture, they bend and move closer together, at times.
It is late, the café is closing. He brings her home to his car, parked two blocks away. At the beginning of March, the cold is still hot. She shudders. Naturally, he takes her by the shoulders, and grant its not his.
They leave the troubled look. Their hands shake, shake their mouths, they do not kiss.

to follow ...

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And if that were true? The unlikely reunion (1)

The story begins 24 August 0079, just after AD, all the way down to Pompeii. Then they went about peacefully, some fields, some other village, the ground began to rumble. The sky to cover. A fine gray dust permeates the atmosphere.
She infiltrated around their eyes, their mouths and cry arose. Panic, terror. The boy rushed into the arms of his mother. She covered her shawl and looked desperately for a place to hide. The panic took possession of the whole village. Men, women, children, elderly, animals running around. The horror that seized them, destroy them all at once!
terra Lisa with her son under an arch. She tried to reassure him of his voice hoarse. They suffocated. In a desperate cry, Lisa recalled all its own. The characters in his life.
Not far away, the same panic, the same call ripped, her husband, her mother, brother, sister, her first heartache and others. All in unison, they lived their last moments se rejoignant dans leurs cris ensevelis.

Mille neuf cents vingts six ans plus tard Mathilda tapote sur son clavier. Elle vient de rompre avec son amant, après plusieurs années de passion destructrice. Une collègue de travail lui conseille de s'inscrire sur un site de rencontre pour tenter de tourner la page. Dubitative, elle joue le jeu. C'est avec une grande pudeur et surtout un grand désarroi qu'elle découvre le fameux catalogue. Elle assiste à la marchandisation de la rencontre amoureuse. Qui lui apparaît comme une banale prestation de consommation courante à durée limitée. Le délai de péremption étant fixé à quelques semaines. Ne parlons pas de la débilité des échanges riddled with spelling errors and punctuated oki lol. This is unacceptable.
One evening, tired of this lost time in search of ... What? A faceless man arrives on her page. He writing enchanting lace. Under the spell, she is letting the time of an evening. A beautiful exchange crosses his screen, touch up emotionally. Gosh! How is it possible to be moved at this point behind a screen? Later, she watches her profile. Eight years younger than she, he wants children, his announcement is a bit nebulous .. In short, it does not. She zaps. The man keeps coming back. It sends mails. He wants to talk on the phone. This is another 'thing. She gives in, taking care to hide his number. She does not like his voice. A young voice and slight, without a body. However, the discussion is fluid and it is several hours later she hangs up. He wants to meet her, she refuses. He insists. She resists. He returned some time later, reiterates. Her writing, always so beautiful. After all, why not? Just meeting the character. It is grown, is a contemporary art gallery (she checked out of prudence).
Twice she cancels at the last minute appointments with him. It is strength for no reason. A sort ill-defined anxiety, a strange feeling.

to follow ...