The Night of the Restaurant - Story

The sophisticated style of the restaurant was confirmed by the live music. The constant hustle and bustle of the impeccably dressed waiters was a consequence of the very high demands of the customers that night. Dozens of couples spent a romantic moment at the tables, dressed appropriately for the occasion. At other tables, top executives celebrated the latest successes of their companies with champagne.

But in a large window overlooking the nighttime metropolis was a secluded table where a beautiful woman sat alone, expectantly awaiting the arrival of her entourage. Her face was a mixture of sadness and hope: sadness because the man I was waiting for was late, he was more than half an hour late, and hope because I thought he had not forgotten his special appointment for today.

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And that woman was you, and that table was ours, where I proposed to you under the stars as a witness, and where we renew our vows of love every year. Yes, today is also June 20th, but you know it's useless to wait...

As the minutes pass, you ask the waiter to give you a glass, from which you drink slowly, your lips tightening with each sip and pressing hard on the delicate crystal. Then the intricate mechanism of your imagination, conditioned by all the pain you have experienced in the last few months, kicks in and you see me finally walk through the door, with a bouquet of white roses in one hand and a black briefcase in the other, and I run out because I know I have been going too slowly.

You look up and follow me from the door to the table, where you're still waiting, but you're no longer sad because you think there's a good reason for the delay, and you smile and your eyes light up. But when I finally move a few meters away from you, you see how my figure dissolves like fog until it disappears. You look desperately around you, but see only the sympathetic glances of the people at the surrounding tables.

At that moment you regain clarity and face reality. An overwhelming sadness takes over you, your mind breaks and tears begin to flow from the sheer pain that you cannot control, that you do not want to control. You know that another crisis is coming, but you don't want to take the pills out of your pocket because you think they will only delay and increase the suffering that one day you will have to endure to end it for good.

However, you are not prepared for this encounter and your heart suffers from increased anxiety, so you try to head for the exit. You are completely unconscious and are transferred by ambulance to St. Joseph's Hospital, where you spend the next few days under anesthesia, observation and psychological care. The same hospital where they couldn't do anything for me, the same hospital where we said goodbye eight years ago.

End.