Posted on March 26, 2013 by Flan
“You want a child?!” Miele’s voice is drowned out by the screeching of her own bike’s breaks as she abruptly stops right in the middle of the bridge. “Come on, keep going. No, I didn’t mean…”, you try to reply defensively. “I was… I was just suggesting that it would be nice to have a child with Pietro.” You too are on a bike: you finally bought one to add a bit of speed to your daily wanders in Rome. It might be spring’s fault and the consequent bouts of hormones, or you might really be falling in love this time. Crazy how things change: a couple of weeks ago you were hastily running out of his apartment while now you cannot stop thinking about the minute you will cross that same doorstep in the opposite direction – to enter his perfect apartment. Your deep longing for his place has been reinforced by the fact that he has stopped taking you out altogether and you only see each other in his apartment. “Aren’t things proceeding a bit awkwardly? You already behave like a married couple.” Miele adds while she is happily skidding on the white granite surface of the riverbanks. But then she decides to stop, turn and say: “You realize you are not in love with this guy, don’t you?” You sigh. Of course, you do. After all, you are the same one who ran away from his apartment once and told him twice that you should stop seeing each other. You just keep going back to him for that feeling you get after a couple of days: it’s like you can’t breath if you don’t see his muscular and toned body. Now you know how most men feel, the ones obsessed with breasts, and why they keep dating hideous or dumb girls simply for their huge rack. It is almost impossible to say goodbye to his perfect body, even if his cold and heartless attitude often gives you the shivers. And while you’re still sighing at these very complicated thoughts you get a message from him: “Stuck in traffic. Won’t be back for dinner. Call you tomorrow.” You sigh even more deeply this time. No need to decide anything today, nor tomorrow. “Let’s keep moving”, you shout while you cycle as fast as you can admiring the shimmering waters around the Tiber Island. It’s almost dark, the only way to beat time is to keep moving. A cute guy is cycling by you, you try to keep up with his speed, but soon enough you are left behind. Miele runs fast and catches him, they exchange a couple of lines then he is off, faster than the two of you put together. Miele shrugs and whistles while she waits for you to catch up with her. Don’t be fooled, you say to yourself, it’s not who runs after whom that matters. What really matters in love is speed.