This is an observation I was making to myself yesterday.
I was looking at the panorama through the glass window of the train bringing me back to the capital. I was enjoying the sweet smell of the perfume the woman beside me was wearing. Freshly showered and pampered, I was imagining her on her way to meet this special person, maybe getting excited as the train was wolfing the kilometers.
I was remembering how I used to feel when I was walking to the places where I was supposed to meet my angel, how excited and out of breath I was when finally seeing her. The burst of joy when touching her skin, and the lust that was coming with.
Then I told my colleague, also beside me but on the other side, that it was a really nice feeling to sense the joy she was filled up with.
He only told me that perfume as heavy as this give him allergies and sometimes even asthma.
The lovely lady was starting to smile, giggle and as she grabbed the mirror from her bag, to check on her make up, he started to tell me all about his allergies and how difficult his life is.
She was gently brushing her hair, now dryer, still smiling. She then checked on her lipstick and stopped smiling: the lipstick went sliding on the lower lip and onto the other on. She evened out both lips and bit a piece of cloth. After double-checking, she looked at me and gave me a big smile.
My colleague was now complaining about how horrible it is to age and how horrible it will be if ever his wife dies before him…
I looked again at this woman in love, thought about happiness, and smiled back at this sixty years old person…
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