“How are you?”, he asked. I said I’m fine, and asked him too, you know, work and all. He said it was exhausting, “You know, you know how it was”.
And I suddenly thought about how much or how little of him have I known. I was thinking too fast and not thinking at all. I asked him how She is. But I cut in mid-sentence. What was I thinking. He smiled a little. A sad smile. He said, “She’s fine”. I’ve always wondered how he had access to my thoughts. I didn’t say anything after that. There’s nothing more I could really say. He picked up his glass and spoke.
“Have you found a new one?”
No. No, i’m not looking for a new one, I am looking for a better one.
The last one.
“I’m afraid you’ll have a hard time with that one.”
Oh that air of both arrogance and charm.
Why ofcourse not. Matter of fact I know one. And that’s what frightens me. I know only one. I’m afraid I have made up my mind on one thing: that the only man who could be better than Robert Naval is Robert Naval.
He finished his glass. He’s been holding it for quite a while. And then there were no words said, for we both know it. I’ll have a hard time with the last one, the new one, and the better one.