December, 18. Saturday, 06:03 pm.
The cell phone is ringing...she answers it and Juan Antonio says:
- Good evening, Vicky. I think of you every single day of my life.
- I've been thinking of you lately too...she says.
- Ok, I'll call you later.
And that was all. It seems like they will never be apart.
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Numa conversa de fim de noite, em meu quarto, com minha irmã, eu guardava meus sapatos. Que atire a primeira pedra a mulher que não ama sapa...
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