He was a musician, bold, extrovert, he enjoyed people’s attention. She liked fish and chips on Sundays, loved to sit on the couch with a cup of tea on rainy days; but most of all, she loved cumulous white clouds, she used to lay back and watch the sky…
They met one day, on Saturday afternoon, she drank lemonade near the lake at Swinton Park, he had been reading for a while, “Hello”-he said- she answered. They sat together, he told her he was a musician, she told him about her cat.
They met again the following Saturday, the sky was clear; she told him she loved clouds, which were missing that day, he found that funny, silly maybe, he smiled. Swinton Park was beautiful, they talked for hours, about music, and her beloved cat. He hated cats.
He invited her to hear his band, they would play in a tiny jazz pub in the centre of town, she liked the band and drank some kind of liquor afterwards. She told him she’d like to hear his music again, he replied: “You can do that tonight though!”
He took her to his place on his red Vespa; he lived in a little room on the third floor of an old building, there was no lift and the toilet wasn’t even in the room, he had an old piano there, an extremely low bed, huge windows and enormous posters and photographs on the wall: Duke Ellington, Ella Fitzgerald, The Ramones, Jimi Hendrix and so on…”The watch him sleep”-she thought-.
He played the piano for her, she smiled and took a deep breath. He played and played, he seemed away, but she could just listen, with her eyes closed. They didn’t even care about the neighbours. She fell asleep on his bed, he kissed her forehead and covered her body with a blanket, then laid next to her till the morning.
They liked spending time together, she sang old songs and he played along with his guitar, they sat on the couch with a cup of tea and watched the rain, it was an unusual summer. She liked the faces he made while playing the piano, and loved his hugs, she felt secure, loved, in his arms. On cold nights he would hold her and kiss her with passion.

Swinton Park had turned orange, brown, red…wet and cold, the summer had gone by, and now days were gray, rainy, with a glimpse of sun now and then.
It seemed natural, waking up next to each other, having breakfast, lunch, going to the park to read…He used to make coffee for her, and curse every morning because the-damn-teaspoon had fallen to the floor again.

And so she moved...she moved to the rhythm of his words, she got involved in the beauty of his music. He made her smile with just one touch, everything was bright and clear; Sunday afternoons and heavy dark clouds, sunny Tuesdays in the park, rainy Fridays they spent. Things seemed so perfect, they used to sway to the music, they just got carried away, she moved with the flow…
She knew he wouldn’t stay, but deep inside she had a hope. He used to hold her, he liked her wavy hair, he used to tell her he found her beautiful, he liked her tiny figure, her big black eyes, her fair skin…
She thought he was the most beautiful creature she had ever seen, she loved his shape, his dark curls, even his jeans; his music was mesmerizing…
The day he left was hot, the sky was blue and the fountain was dry, everything was; she saw him getting up and packing his clothes, Joe Brooks was on the radio. She was still lying in bed, she heard him pouring coffee in a cup, he dropped the tea spoon on the floor as usual, he drank his coffee and took something from the fridge. Afterwards he grabbed his guitar and went away closing the door behind him forever, she heard his motorcycle outside, she rushed to the window and saw him, for the last time, he was wearing jeans and a green t-shirt she had given him, all he took with him was a small bag and his guitar. She saw him going down the street, then he turned left and disappeared.
She felt a tear or two dropping down her face. She still goes to the park to read, and sometimes, on hot days, when the sky is blue, and the fountain in the garden has dried out, she looks out of the window, and sees him leaving, again and again…he turns left, and disappears.