On the third floor of the building, halfway through the long, long corridor were two connecting stairs. When we sat there, the sun was almost setting. We felt tired, and another mix of emotions with no particular name. A feeling of togetherness, a feeling of uncertainty, of hope, of struggle, of what it meant to us. Everything. It was like we were on one of the most important points in our respective lives, one that didn’t have much to do with the other — in fact, nothing — save for the fact that we were friends. And we were in it together.
We knew it was either a dream-come-true situation or nothing. We could have it, or we couldn’t. But there was also a third case.
“Maybe, it’s for only one of us. The other will return and later on say that they know it was for the best. They will sound very convincing, will ask you to actually believe them that they are content, that it doesn’t matter, that they’ve realised the wisdom behind ‘why not’…”
“But it won’t be true.”
“Yes, it cannot be. Know that deep down it will hurt them enough to never say a word about it. That something will shatter anyhow.” The same happened.
But there was also a fourth case.