He Left Me Alone

27

"We should live in France, you know," he had said on one summer day.

We were sitting on the grass in the park. By then we had claimed that it was our favorite place to hang out. Or at least, it was mine.

We just sat there in silence, each one of us was reading a book. I was a reading a novel and when I turned to him, I took a glimpse of the title of the book he was reading. It was more likely said "France : Discover The Beauty."

"And why is that?"

"I don't know, it's just beautiful," he said, not turning his head off the book on his lap.

"Any definition of beautiful?"

This time he turned to me. A smile appeared on his face. He moved closer to me, placing the thick hard-covered book on a space between us.

The page showed us many pictures ; fascinating old buildings, the colorful cars trying to fit in the traffic, people walking down the street, and the rows of stores, and of course, the Eiffel Tower.

"It's just beautiful, in the undescribeable kind of way," he said. "The building, the people, and something like that. It is alive."

"Agreed."

"I know, right? Look!" He pointed out to one picture of the buildings. "This is what I mean. God, even the traffic is just so beautiful."

We had fallen in love for a place we had never been to.

And for the first time, we declared our first dream together. It was great to have something to look forward to. And to fight for.

But little did I know, how dreaming would hurt so much when we couldn't make it.