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The Writer

Tommaso Avati


"Wait, just a second, I'm closing the window."

           "Why you didn't tell me before that you were cold?"

           "No, no, I'm fine, I'm not cold, don't worry, I'm coming."

           After he closed the window, the man in underwear, who was cold, jumped into bed with a crash, and covered himself.


           "You see? You were cold."

           "C'mon, read."

           "Wait, wait, just a second."


           The girl got up and lit the many candles in the room. There were so many and she lit them all. Then she turned off the light and jumped back into bed. She got close to him and said, "Ok, now everything is perfect."

           "So, c'mon, what are you waiting for?"

           The girl was looking at him smiling like a baby.

           He asked "So, what's wrong now?"

           "Oh, nothing. . . just one thing. . . will you close your eyes?"

           "I can close my eyes, but then you will read -- ok?"

           He closed his eyes and the girl jumped off the foot of bed, and went into the bathroom.

           And from the bathroom she cried, "Wait, wait, wait, don't open the door!". She came out of the bathroom, "Tah Dah!" She was wearing a white teddy, very provocative. She walked in a seductive way. "So, do you like it? I thought it was the right thing for this occasion, do you like it?"

           "Yes, it really drives me crazy, really, c'mon, come here."

           She climbed into the bed, softly this time, they got closer and kissed a little until she said, "Yes, yes, I know, you are right, now we read your stories." She sat on the bed, looked at him one more time and smiled, and began to read.

           She read all night long. She read with love and attention. He watched her mouth telling his stories. He watched his stories going around that small dark room and taking shape and stopping over the candle light. And he wished they could stay there forever. He thought his tales seemed much more beautiful. It seemed impossible to him he had written them. So beautiful. And at one point he didn't know anymore if he did love more his stories or his girlfriend. He wasn't sure where there was more poetry.

           But it was no problem, he thought. Maybe it was just the same thing, that all is poetry and that's what he understood that night: that there is a unity in the world and we just try to separate things.

           He even forgot her white teddy and she probably forgot it, too. She read until the papers in her lap were fewer and fewer, and she kept reading until there were none. Then, she put his writings on the shelf, came to him, and hugged him without saying anything. They fell asleep, the candles still burning. That night they didn't make love and he was happy all the same. And she was happy all the same.

About the Author (click here) © 1998 Tommaso Avati, all rights reserved
 appears here by permission

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