She does not walk, her toes kiss the street. Her hands are waltzing in her hair, as if her scalp was an immense ballroom. Not to talk about that smile! I am concerned whether those are lips or just constellations trying to defy the half-moon. Her brown eyes were in constant skirmish, I almost could hear them quarreling:”to what should we pay attention firstly?”
Gone are the days when I resided in her heart. When she was just a five-year-old gregarious and awfully disreputable child, she would come to me every single time, after misbehaving by design, as to annoy her intrepid parents. We would discuss about it, at our leisure, letting time to transform this image of us together into immortality. But, the bubble bursts sometimes.
After graduating High School, she moved to Paris to write for some renowned magazine. If there is one thing, you, reader, must know about me is that I am stouthearted. I followed her, even when she found treacherous friends and then, boyfriends. I took part in a futile chase, having a lump in my throat as I continued this trip, in hopes of conquering her heart. I told myself not to surrender while I was trapped into her eyes. I felt as if I were an ex-convict, still fighting to the bitter end.
Finally, I capitulated to her silent demands. It was the day I met her ingenious lover. He was chivalrous, in a dashing way, never morose or sullen, forever hers. I have seen every hug, every kiss and I aged through all these hardships. I was with this girl wherever she was, whenever she needed – when she was running to catch Bus 28, protecting her head from the powerful sunlight and when she was holding hands with this gallant guy at night, on 4th Street, when only dimming lights were accompanying them.
I could not help being present at her wedding, underhand, of course. I saw their first baby, a sturdy girl named Stephanie growing and also, present at the christening of Anthony, their third child. Awful, isn’t it? I have been there always and she never noticed. The last time I have seen her was the saddest, actually. She was crying – that picture I cannot afford to see. My dear Kate was now frail and sick, reaching the age of seventy-four.
”I have no one” she whispered, as her tears were filling in my broken heart. “The only trace I have ever left on places, memories or people is my shadow – my only stunt friend.”
Pictures taken from the movies: “Becoming Jane”, starring Anne Hathaway and James McAvoy, “Anna Karenina” with Keira Knightley and Aaron Taylor-Johnson and “Shakespeare in Love”, involving Gwyneth Paltrow and Joseph Fiennes.