This Monday, when it trembled, I felt again everything that, as terribly painful, I decided to forget. I saw the girl again at the door of the school where I had just left her, with her hand raised, saying goodbye to her again. On the other side of the avenue I made signs for her to get in and she said something to me that I couldn’t understand. I was getting late for work and ran to the terminal.
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Cristina Pacheco: Sea of Stories
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