He looked at his wife,
who crossed the street.
She was wearing a red trench coat,
which she promised to throw away
and which she kept pulling out
of her closet, year after year.
She approached all
things the same way.
And it was that trait that
attracted him, when he first met her.
The same clothes worn
over and over again.
Piles of lipsticks,
which she never used.
That song...
life's vortex, which she
intonated while making food,
was a part of the life
that had become alien to him
and which he intended to abandon
between the main dish and dessert.
-Hello, miss.
-Hello.
He realized the weird and logical
inappropriateness of the place
he had chosen to abandon her.
It was here that he first realized
that he had stopped loving her.
When she smiled, he was
on the verge of shouting:
-I'm leaving you! Stop smiling!
But instead he offered
her some wine.
It pissed him off that she never
ordered any hors d'oeuvres or dessert.
But she almost always
ate his whole portion.
The worst thing was that he always
ended up ordering what she loved.
-I'm not sure I actually like that cake.
he thought solemnly.
When she started to cry
like she never cried before,
he thought that she knows he
was leaving her for Marie-Christine,
a passionate flight attendant,
who he loved for a year and a half.
-She knows, he thought. She's known it for some time.
I should have expected it.
Still crying, she took out
some documents from her handbag
and handed them to him.
The documents were written
in a lifeless medical language
and described leukemia in
its terminal stage.
-I'm sorry.
Having read the documents,
the meeting's purpose flew out of his mind.
And a weird metallic
voice said to him:
-You have to be up to the task!
And he was.
He ordered 3 pieces
of cake as take-out
and sent an SMS to his mistress.
“FORGET ABOUT ME. SERGIO”
He surrounded her with
the care she always desired.
He hung paintings.
He moved things from one place to another.
He accompanied her to morning
showings of her favourite movies.
He went with her to sales,
even though he hated shopping.
He read Murakami's
"Sputnik Sweetheart" aloud.
And everything, even the most
mundane things, had a different meaning,
since he learned he was doing
them for her for the last time.
Behaving like a man in love,
he once again became a man in love.
And when she died in his arms,
he fell into an emotional coma
from which he never awoke.
And until this day,
years later,
his heart still sinks
when he sees a woman in
a red trench coat.
who crossed the street.
She was wearing a red trench coat,
which she promised to throw away
and which she kept pulling out
of her closet, year after year.
She approached all
things the same way.
And it was that trait that
attracted him, when he first met her.
The same clothes worn
over and over again.
Piles of lipsticks,
which she never used.
That song...
life's vortex, which she
intonated while making food,
was a part of the life
that had become alien to him
and which he intended to abandon
between the main dish and dessert.
-Hello, miss.
-Hello.
He realized the weird and logical
inappropriateness of the place
he had chosen to abandon her.
It was here that he first realized
that he had stopped loving her.
When she smiled, he was
on the verge of shouting:
-I'm leaving you! Stop smiling!
But instead he offered
her some wine.
It pissed him off that she never
ordered any hors d'oeuvres or dessert.
But she almost always
ate his whole portion.
The worst thing was that he always
ended up ordering what she loved.
-I'm not sure I actually like that cake.
he thought solemnly.
When she started to cry
like she never cried before,
he thought that she knows he
was leaving her for Marie-Christine,
a passionate flight attendant,
who he loved for a year and a half.
-She knows, he thought. She's known it for some time.
I should have expected it.
Still crying, she took out
some documents from her handbag
and handed them to him.
The documents were written
in a lifeless medical language
and described leukemia in
its terminal stage.
-I'm sorry.
Having read the documents,
the meeting's purpose flew out of his mind.
And a weird metallic
voice said to him:
-You have to be up to the task!
And he was.
He ordered 3 pieces
of cake as take-out
and sent an SMS to his mistress.
“FORGET ABOUT ME. SERGIO”
He surrounded her with
the care she always desired.
He hung paintings.
He moved things from one place to another.
He accompanied her to morning
showings of her favourite movies.
He went with her to sales,
even though he hated shopping.
He read Murakami's
"Sputnik Sweetheart" aloud.
And everything, even the most
mundane things, had a different meaning,
since he learned he was doing
them for her for the last time.
Behaving like a man in love,
he once again became a man in love.
And when she died in his arms,
he fell into an emotional coma
from which he never awoke.
And until this day,
years later,
his heart still sinks
when he sees a woman in
a red trench coat.
Isabel Coixet - Paris je t'aime.
--------
I've just fallen in love with Damien Rice's song, The Blower's Daughter.
And so it is
Just like you said it should be
We'll both forget the breeze
Most of the time
And so it is
The colder water
The blower's daughter
The pupil in denial
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