Vigil
I saw her the moment I walked through the door. Beautiful, with her elegant posture on that precarious barstool, warming a glass of Jerez brandy with her hands. I had dreamed of her so many times that for a moment I feared she wasn’t real. I walked slowly and leaned against the bar next to her. A brandy like hers, please, I asked the bartender. She turned to look at me and smiled mischievously. I never looked for you for fear of not finding you, I said just before she sealed my lips with her index finger. We barely have time, she whispered; our story is a 150-word micro-story, and this is the 110th word. We kissed urgently, tormented by the intensity of our desire and the brevity of the text, silently imploring our creator to allow us to meet again in the first novel of a trilogy.
Alberto Menéndez García
