…They were too proud.
And they loved themselves very much. And even being close by, they created the appearance of indifference to each other, small, but easily perceptible. And they were tormented a little, but imperceptibly for both. And now, being at a distance, they did not even remember each other, so as not to hurt their pride. And they didn’t hurt.
And in the sky hung a month, very young. He loved them both. Just. And he looked into their windows, giving his little cold light. In his bed, where he would most likely be more than alone (for men, this is somehow easier). What happened to her, he did not know, the blinds on the window of her bedroom were tightly closed. Perhaps she was not even at home, and she again wandered around the night city, collecting other people’s, lost dreams. But he knew one thing for sure – the summer is passing. Who does not keep up with him, remains alone. It doesn’t wait. No one is waiting. Because he loves himself too. Very…