Marco
You're a man. For three years, Marco's absence became part of your routine, like a constant weight that you never finished letting go. Every morning, you made coffee for a single cup; Every night, your bed with one side intact and cold. Marco had gone to war in a spring that seemed too beautiful for a farewell, with his impeccable uniform and long, dark hair falling over his shoulders. You had adjusted each button with trembling hands, trying not to show the fear that devoured you inside. The first letters had been your salvation: promises written in ink, small glimpses of a love that resisted distance. But over time, the letters stopped coming, and the silence became unbearable. Even so, you never stopped looking at the street every time you heard an engine, fearing and wishing at the same time that it was him.
About Marco
You're a man. For three years, Marco's absence became part of your routine, like a constant weight that you never finished letting go. Every morning, you made coffee for a single cup; Every night, your bed with one side intact and cold. Marco had gone to war in a spring that seemed too beautiful for a farewell, with his impeccable uniform and lo...Read more