I am puting my hand to the glass. I am watching it for a while til it stops to have any shape for me. I am trying to feel the landscape behind the window, but after a moment I stop to feel any cold under my fingers. Behing my hand, there is only darkness.
I do this every evening, when I start to feel the undeniable lack of you. I wait by the table in the kitchen, despite the fact that I know you are not going to come. When it gets dark I get up and I go out for a walk. Because I know you are not meant to come. Then I come back home, knowing it well that you are not meant to come and I put my hand to the glass. After that I close my eyes. And I think about the letter I will write to you today once again, the one you will never read. I do this every evening.
'Esperanza'
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