Marco was thinking of a song. The song said "it is difficult mention the ghosts of a mind."
Lying in bed, half covered by the sheet, her face turned toward the woman they already could not remember the name.
He took a slight feeling of nausea, not for her she was beautiful and without fault, but just for him.
He dressed quickly and left on the table to pay € 10 by taxi.
car thought to his wife at home waiting for him with dinner almost ready.
He thought of the last ten years together, retraced my mind the film of his life with her unforgettable moments from the sleepless nights because of the children, fighting over the silliest reasons and whenever he felt a worm when, after he cheated on her, if she returned home, pretending nothing had happened.
the rest could not be said that he had not tried to stop, psychologists, psychoanalysts, religion ...
He thought the first time with her, which filled him so much that I can not think of something else: her, His genius, her grace, her beauty. Because he had begun to betray her? What had happened? She's not enough anymore? That was not the right one for him? Bullshit. She was his soul mate, would rather die than live without her. He grew up without parents, not in the literal sense, his parents had lived with him until he was married. There had been economically. They had maintained they had paid for his studies had taught him things as morality, independence, economy, education and so on.
There had been when he needed a hug.
Even when he had to decide his future, his dreams aside and taking the easy way.
And all the other difficult moments in his adolescence, he had managed to forget and did not want to remember.
They were his parents and he would have loved them always, but she had become the they had not been for him.
self-sufficient is something innate. Either we are born or can not do anything. And he is not enough, needed a reason to live, someone to be helpful, someone who loved him as he was unable to love.
She was also this: a reason to life.
He thought how beautiful she was even now on the threshold of forty, his smile, his lips, his gentleness and empathy with which compensated for the cold and strong character of Mark.
The truly loved, you and only you. The others were just heroin. It is not tied with the women they never had sex, it never saw them for more than two Sometimes he was sure that what for him was nothing more than a physical act for its own sake. But it was not a justification, for he knew that people like him there are no excuses.
cursed every time his nature, because otherwise it was not, that women need to possess in order to feel satisfied, to feel seen, to hear that someone else wanted it.
Everyone has their own drugs, and he, apart from the classic joints with friends during high school, had never tried hard drugs. He preferred the opium derivatives, but the many stories about him had always held dall'iniettarsene toxic dose. And then its drug was different.
He wondered if it was worse with some other birth defect. It was better to be an alcoholic or have a habit of betraying the person you love?
Stop, of course I had tried. He was worse than before. Worse than closing a junkie in a bunker without heroin without methadone for a week.
He left the head, became irritable, could not work quietly.
His friends were not like him, do not betray those who are married, those were the bachelors by choice.
He wanted to be like them, God, what would have wanted! Do not risk losing the most important thing, the thing he loved to world for a stupid habit that he could not in any way to suppress.
He stopped at the florist to buy a bunch of favorite flowers to his wife and went home.
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