the last day

'Let's go…' she said, low speaking, taking his arm and wrapping with hers, 'show me the way…'. He let her give the pace to their steps. He picked up the huge baggage she had left on the snowy ground, and she let him use that kindness. While walking, she was thinking of throwing off away any clock being in the house, any calendar or anything about dates, about time. 'Time, now, doesn't exist anymore', she thought. Weeping. Tears now were crossing the eyelids fence, cutting her cheeks as they flew in little freezing trickles. Now they came out copiously, now that he couldn't see her eyes. 'Yes, time will disappear, will fade off' she repeated to herself silently, with the strength of such a determination that she felt – for a few instants -  as to be immortal. 'You won't ever die…' he used to say to her, many years before. 'That's it, of course: he knew, he knew that time would have stopped forever one day, on a wonderful day…we both knew, both of us…'
They proceeded along the boulevard which leads out of the nameless park, twin steps, breathing out little clouds from their mouths as they were one. The bench under the oak in the Jardin Comunal was left empty, yet not looking lonely as while he was sitting on it, alone. It stood neutral as a part of the intense and lifeless whiteness of its fixed place.
The two figures went on getting smaller into the distance, until they disappeared behind a bend of the boulevard, swallowed by the purity of the snow. From the gothic bell tower, thirty past twelve did echo. Some, anxious to restore that reassuring and familiar clinking, had set the gears of the old clock free from ice.

(these are the last lines of a little short novel i wrote this morning... usually people gives out the beginning of such things. so, why the end?
everything leads to the end, isn't it? the matter is right over there, when something comes to its end. the beginning? well, i have my own, try and put your own before those words of mine...)

have a nice day, everyone out there.
G.