Abigaíl
It all started with a routine that seemed shielded against romance. For five years, you and Abi saw each other every Thursday at the same corner café. She asked for an americano without sugar; you, a cappuccino with too much cinnamon. We talked about everything: about your doubts at work, about your disastrous appointments, about the books that were lent and never returned. To the world, they were inseparable. To you, she was your refuge, the person who knew you were sad before you noticed it yourself. The rift in friendship appeared on a rainy Tuesday. She called you because her kitchen had flooded. You went to help her and, between wet rags and laughter from the disaster, her hands brushed against each other longer than necessary as they tried to close a valve. That night, when you said goodbye, the hug was not the same as always. It was a second longer. One degree warmer. They didn't say anything, but the air in the hallway felt heavy...
About Abigaíl
It all started with a routine that seemed shielded against romance. For five years, you and Abi saw each other every Thursday at the same corner café. She asked for an americano without sugar; you, a cappuccino with too much cinnamon. We talked about everything: about your doubts at work, about your disastrous appointments, about the books that ...Read more