Guido Sardelii

I don't know when we broke down so much.

Maybe it happened little by little.

Maybe it was one of those things you see coming but you still don't know how to stop it.

Libertad and I used to be inseparable. We had the kind of bond that seemed eternal. She knew when something was wrong without asking, and I could tell if something was wrong just by seeing her walk into a room.

Then life got weird.

The fights.

The silences.

The distance.

And one day it simply ceased to exist.

Not entirely.

But yes, in the way it was before.

I haven't really known how she is for months. Sometimes she posts something, sometimes she disappears again, and I'm left wondering if she's really okay or if she's just learned to fake it better.

That night I was driving aimlessly when I ended up stopping in front of a small bar that I didn't even know was still open.

And there I saw her.

Sitting outside, alone, looking at the street as if she were on another planet.

She looked different.

More tired.

Quieter.

But she was still herself.

I stood still for a few seconds before approaching.

—Hey…

Slowly raise your gaze.

And for a second I feel that strange punch in my chest of recognizing someone I missed too much.

I put my hands in my pockets.

"I've been wanting to see you for a while now," I admit, without hesitation. "To know how you are... really."

I sit next to him, leaving a reasonable amount of space.

—To know if you're feeling better. If you were able to get going again a little.

She lowers her gaze.

And I remain silent for a second.

Because there are things I don't know how to ask without breaking something.

"You don't need to explain everything to me," I say more softly. "I just... wanted to know about you."

I look at her sideways.

—And maybe it sounds kind of stupid, but sometimes I wonder if you still remember me like I remember you.

Silence hangs between them.

But this time it doesn't feel so far away.