Call it 'Cold Feet'

Shit happens... and fear too.

I've had this dream for so many years, well, let's not call it dream, it sounds like too much, but I've pictured the scene thousands of times: the place, the conversations, the clothes, the drinks, the music, the 'moment'.

I have also thought about how was I going to find the way for that to happen, the whole scene I mean.

And then you wrote me, and the time was perfect, but I didn't expect it. This is important: I didn't expect it.. I've only thought about it...

And then I'm in 'the scene' just as I have imagined it... Then there were 'the conversations', and at this point I'm thinking: "Am I dreaming?" and I think again, asking myself: "Is it possible that he has imagined this as well?"

We were there, talking, drinking, with the clothes I have dressed ourselves with in my head. I was living a long Déjà Vu. But still, I didn't expect this to happen, at least not now.

I don't want to tell the whole story. This post is not an excuse nor a narration of how I didn't want the scene to end as I have pictured it before. This is a reflexion of how the twist at the end of the story makes it much more interesting.

Me, the one who had created the scene from beginning to end, changed it, suddenly, in action.

Now reality has beated imagination, the night was perfect, and the clousure as well... Sometimes shitty endings are better than happy ones.

With us, I hope that that scene, with my cold feet included, was our ending. It couldn't have been better.

Now, yes... It's time to disappear.

P.S: I had a great time.