25 years ago I left her. I will return soon, so I promised her. But it took me more then two decades.

“I bear you no grudge,  it’s just how things are going”, so she told me.  She was still beautiful. The wound she had sustained during the fire, 27 years ago, was healed nicely. You could still see the scar, but that didn’t seem to bother her in the least. “This is what I am, it’s part of my past”. A strong lady, a lady with style.

For two weeks the both of us wandered through her streets. Strange, how familiar that felt, how at ease I was. As if I never had been away.

Yesterday we said goodbye, near the river. I wanted to make a promise. Again. But she shut me up, by putting her fingers on my lips. “Don’t. When you want to visit me, just do so. And if not, well ….”

And she walked away, her black hair moved by the wind. She never looked back. Not once.

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