Good evening, he said with never forgotten lips, and what was so good about it? My head hurt from the pressure of his presence and poor, long-lost heart was pounding. ‘Evening, because indeed, the evening it was. What, where, how and with whom, and what should I say to him, so I continue to blankly speak empty stories: It’s good, good and that’s how I only confirm his good. Yes, why not and that sort of lies that more insulted lips than the brain; lips because they are dirty, lips because they are bad when they know how to invent such things. Long ago body started roaring due to desire for the body, breath and eyes to mist under the blindness of excessive beat in the stomach. He managed to strike the final blow: he smiled, in such way, in such way… Like that long, long time ago. As in the mirror, I drew a smile on my face, just to show that I still remember how to do it. He said goodbye and did what he always knew the best – left.
