Autumn

Meet again Night. About twelve o’clock. She sits in front of the mirror and looks intently at her face. A face that was now alien to her. A face that will forever be gone at dawn. Her face and her memory come alive. She was so happy when she raced to him through the fields and meadow flowers, when she rode her bike. Everything flashes before her, before her eyes. Again and again vivid images come up: her smile, her eyes, her soul that was alive then, her happiness that remained forever in those days-somewhere on the outskirts of youth, at fifteen. She stayed there forever, surrounded by flowers that could turn your head with their scent. She stayed with the sky, which beckoned with its blue. She stayed there with him. With a man who left forever, not taking with him to that unprecedented land. A place where he’ll be better off now. He left easily and simply, without understanding anything. She stayed. And now, sitting in front of the mirror, she looked through herself and remembered everything. His eyes, his smile, the voice that was forever written in her heart. How young they were then. And how happy they are. They were children who did not know life, who did not know pain and fear. They only knew happiness. It was theirs. And it will always belong to you. She looks down at the floor, choking back tears and fear. She was going to be married tomorrow, and from now on it wouldn’t be her. It will be a married woman — without a smile and with a commitment. It won’t be her. She stayed with him and would leave with him. She’s just his fiancee. She gets up and puts on a dress with a veil. She straightens her hair, looks in the mirror again ― and jumps out of the open window. She opens her eyes again, easily and simply, without feeling any pain, without feeling anything at all, and sees him lying next to her on the feather bed. She’s on the same bed where she used to kiss him. He turns his head and asks: “Is that you?” her voice trembles as she sees him. - yes. I’ve been waiting for you for so long. “I’m sorry I’m late. ― No, you don’t have to apologize. He gets up from the bed, and she follows him, and they walk up the spiral staircase. She’s wearing a peignoir, and he’s wearing a shirt and pants. He opens the door, and the sun is blinding in her eyes. He takes her hand and leads her to the center of the garden. Hugging, circling in his arms. And she knows that all her worries are over, that she did everything right. And, without regretting anything, she kisses him. “In paradise, we will be with those we loved in life,” she says. “Yes, it’s true―” And they cover their eyes. They stand and watch as the sun slowly turns to the moon. And then the starfall covers them ― now they will always look at the stars.