My Room
I go up the stairs when the sun starts to rise, unlock the door and go straight to the kitchen. I take a glass of water, drink it right there, leaning against the wall. Through the window I see the sky, it’s painting in degrees of red, orange and purple, it looks kind of beautiful and scary at the same time, it reminds me of the sky in a famous painting, although I don’t remember the name. I finish my glass of water, leave it there, with all the dishes to be washed, and go to my room.
I stop at the end of the hall, in front of the door, look at it, seem to say, somehow, that it doesn’t want to be opened. I take a deep breath, and a little courage or whatever, then I open the door and enter the room.
I stop just after entering, and observe the room, my room, cold and dark, empty except for a large bed. I think I should at least take a shower while I head to bed knowing that I am not going to do it, I lie down and look up at the ceiling. So I close my eyes and wonder if the emptiness I feel at that moment is loneliness, if that cold comes from inside or outside, if that dark comes from my eyes or from the closed curtains.
So I turn around and watch the person lying next to me, she seems to be sleeping soundly, I wonder if she dreams, what kind of dreams she has, I wonder if she’ll remember any of them when she wakes up. So I face her, watch her swollen eyes, her dry tears, watch this face that, in a way, mirrors mine, I feel a little tightness in my chest.
So i wonder if she is happy with me the way i am now. I hold her hand as I let myself be carried lightly by this morning’s sleep waltz turned into night. Her hands are cold, but it’s okay, mine are too, I squeeze her hand slightly and I feel that she squeezes mine back, so I feel something I don’t know for sure, and I fall asleep wondering if it’s happiness, sadness or relief.
