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I called Penelope on the phone, and this is what I said to her:
Where are you? I haven’t seen you in a while. We haven’t crossed paths; we haven’t been around each other for a long time. Where are you Penelope?
I miss you. I think about you a lot. Every day. I don’t know…I forgot how it was being with you. It has been some years now and I haven’t even spoken to you.
There are a lot of things I miss when you’re not around. It’s not even the sex. It’s your look when I hold you and you look up to me. It’s seeing you approaching from afar. It’s kissing you. Sincerely. Loving you. Driving you. Calling you.
Now I start doubting myself. Have I not been around enough for us to meet again? Have I been testing you? Did my eyes miss the bright colours of your summer gown? Didn’t I hear your steps, or worse, did I ignore them?
And I have never been that man before. I talk to girls, I date them, I kiss them out of a lack, a deficiency, even though from the first moment I knew: they’re not you. I am not easily impressed anymore Penelope…is that the reason why you haven’t come to see me?
Now I don’t know much, really I…I don’t know what to do. I want to see you again. I want to hold you again. I think I deserve that. I’m a good man, Penelope, and you are a good woman and I don’t think I’ve ever wanted more than that.
We should go to the park sometime.
