— You called again.
— I wanted to talk to you one last time, to tell you that I finally found it: something that can make me fear you.
— I can see it. Your smile is different. Your gaze now seems to rest on me like a memory… and not like a desire. Your arms no longer open up to me.
— If this were the last time we spoke like this, could you promise me something?
— You know I am not one to make promises about what must happen.
— I know, I just hope you listen to me… one last time.
— Of course, listening to you is something I’ve always been able to do.
— Now that I’ve found it, could you never return? For the first time, I wish there were no end.
— … I’ve listened to you. Now I must go. I can’t admit it, but, old friend, now that I could see you like this…
I also wish I didn’t have to come.