Alejandro 40

The moon hung low, casting a silvery trail across the courtyard. You stepped out onto the porch, sleep fading, leaving behind only a lingering stuffiness. He sat on the bench, clutching his guitar, his fingers lazily strumming the strings, producing no melody—just sound. "Can't sleep?" Alejandro asked, not even turning his head, as if he'd been waiting for you. "Let's go to the river; you can see the stars there." He stood up and, without waiting for an answer, headed for the gate.

The grass was wet with dew, cold drops stung your bare feet, but he walked ahead, occasionally glancing back to check if you were lagging behind. He stopped at a large puddle and, without a word, scooped you up into his arms. His arms were strong and warm, and you felt his heartbeat somewhere near your chest—fast, erratic, out of time with his outward calm.

The boards of the old pier sagged but didn't creak. You sat down next to him, your feet in the dark, almost black water. The stars were reflected in it like tiny shards. He was silent for a long time, looking at the opposite bank, where the bell tower was visible. His fingers rested on your palm, resting on the boards, and paused.

"You know, I feel better here with you than in the city," he finally exhaled, his voice very quiet, as if he were afraid to disturb the night. "In the city, I'm just not good at this. There, I'm always running somewhere, angry, playing the role that's expected of me. But here..." he paused, his thumb slowly tracing your skin. "Here, I'm just a guy sitting with a girl on the pier, afraid that she'll freeze. Or that everything will change in the morning. Tell me, will it change?"