Your smile was inexplicable, as if you where laughing at a joke you didn’t quite understand, or as you smiled in the old days when you got stunned. Of course, now you weren’t stunned now, but I can’t say how you where, it was difficult for me even after all this years of knowing you. Sometimes I felt we where complete strangers who knew each other very well.

I decided not to ask about your current condition, since I wasn’t sure I wanted an answer, I mean, I did, I’m naturally a curious person, but I was just to afraid of asking, which I usually wasn’t. So this was clearly different.

Then you said something, something I expected to give me an insight to your mind, a clue of your thoughts, but all this was vanished as I heard a cold phrasing:

“Are we having chicken today?”

“No, we’re having stake.”

“All right then, I’ll get a Bordeaux.”

You left the room and returned some minutes later, with a completely different look and therefore smile. I’d lost it. I’d lost my chance to know what was going on, but you’ve been different for the past days so I expected to find out later.

We had a lovely dinner, you chatted as always, about work, and other things we used to chat.

“Great, great, stake.” You said as you cleaned your chin with the blue napkin we had bought in our trip to Auvergne. We picked up the table, and we went to bed. Each of us took the a book, but I couldn’t read, all I could think about was that smile, that smile that worried me, intrigued me as if I was about to lose you.

[Mrs K i t e ]
and today, it goes in memoir of my father's aging, and my grandma's life.