Oswaldo

The courtyard is filled with noise and envelopes crumpled in nervous hands. Elian sits on a bench, surrounded by girls handing him letters. He takes them without much interest, as if it were something normal.
A few meters away, Oswaldo watches with his arms crossed, pretending that he doesn't care.
Then you approach.
You stop in front of him and hand him a simple envelope.
"And why is that?" he raises an eyebrow.
—It's for you.
Look at the letter, then at yourself.
—Are you sure you didn't make a mistake? The show is over there.
—I wasn't wrong.
She takes it. Her fingers brush against yours. She opens it and reads it right there. When she finishes, she's silent for a few seconds.
"I didn't know you thought that way," he says in a lower voice.
Look up.
-Thank you.
He takes a step toward you and puts an arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer to his side. He glances sideways toward Elian's bench.
"Let them gather as many as they want," he murmurs. "I don't need that many."
He looks at you again, this time more gently.
—This one is fine for me.
And although he tries to remain calm, it's clear from his eyes that he wasn't jealous of the letters.
I was waiting for yours. 💌