I don't remember where it was. An unknown city for sure, with a mix of mountains and beaches. With a weird hotel with long corridors and tall doors, like in old high schools. Everything placed in an airplane that was going to Australia.
Here I had lost my bag and I was supposed to speak in a seminar. And I found you waiting in a train coach. Sitting straight and without blinking. My heart skipped a bit.
At first you refused talking to me. But then you turned toward me and knelt down. I mimicked your gesture.
And you started scolding me saying that you missed kissing me like in the past, when I rejected you (which I don't, if we remember both correctly). And then you said you left because I was taking Kathy and your mother away from you . (I wonder who Kathy is.)
I cupped your cheeks in my palms and locked my lips with yours and we started weeping. I told you that everything was a misunderstanding. A huge one.
We hugged tight and neighbor popped out of thin air saying she needed to stay there with her child. And you left.
I woke up missing you so much.
