Hope.

And the day of redemption, everything was dark, it did not last, with tears in his eyes, that he knew, that everything was over, the rebirth of desires, was hope, dreams and the future, his own longing.

Desperation chained him, the loss was his only condemnation, what he did not value, what he did not care about. What good would salvation do? If what I missed most was losing it. Peace, a new beginning? Or an agonizing forgetfulness and murmurs in its foundations?

Guilt consumed her, and redemption awaited her, but what she did not know was that she had not lost anything, if it was never hers, she should not have waited for her arrival and in her abandonment, crying was the most pagan guilt.