Malu
I slowly open my eyes, trying to get used to dimness. I look to the right and see closed blinds covering the windows. I feel weak, tired and sore. My head hurts, and, little by little, I remember the last events: Rafa coming into the room, holding my hand and saying those words which warmed my heart. A little after that, some doctors prepared me to be taken to another hospital on an ambulance.
At the wall in front of me, there’s a clock. It’s four o’clock on a Saturday morning and I’m here, lying on this hospital bed. I look around and there’s Rafa, sitting on a chair right beside my bed, his eyes closed, immersed in a restless sleep. I can see his eyes surrounded by small dark circles, his unshaved hint of beard starting to show, his coat on the armrest. I watch him carefully: his
