Time was running too fast. He was shaking his head and from day to day the plans became more. She did something good after so much hurry, stopped for a while, and told me I could go later.
The closer the departure was, the harder I was to prepare my luggage. I could feel parts of me. Others thought I was sorting clothes when I actually arranged memories. Pieces of me were going to others, and on others, no matter how tricky I was to take away, I did not have the strength. At one point, she offered to give me a hand. I accepted, because I knew it could be the last truly honest moments that we could spend together. It flashed and farewell, until the train had given the signal. It took me three days to pack everything. He did not hurry, nor did he tell me I could have done everything faster. He understood. He agreed to stay almost as much as he would, even though he did not understand exactly what he left behind with this change.
Finally, he also beat the splitting clock. I would have said goodbye, because I knew I was not giving up on her, but to me. I said, however, soon, hoping to meet once in the paths of love. Oh, with what vain hope I nourish.
[...]
I called you to say that you forgot something. Something that does not belong to me and which I'm sure you need.
What are you talking about? I took everything I needed.
My dear, you forgot your heart.
