The storm was receding, now barely an echo of cold rain. I wanted to return the key to Bea, but her eyes told me she wanted me to be the one to keep it. We strolled down toward Paseo de San Gervasio, hoping to find a taxi or a bus. We walked in silence, holding hands and hardly looking at each other. “I won’t be able to see you again until Tuesday,” Bea said in a tremulous voice, as if she suddenly doubted my desire to see her again. “I’ll be waiting for you here,” I said. I took for granted that all my meetings with Bea would take place between the walls of that rambling old house, that the rest of the city did not belong to us. It even seemed to me that the firmness of her touch decreased as we moved away, that her strength and warmth diminished with every step we took. When we reached the avenue, we realized that the streets were almost deserted. “We won’t find anything here,”
What do You think about The Shadow Of The Wind (2015)?
