I will find her, late again

 

I only had in my pocket a pencil and an always full appointment book.

Whether it's windy or snowing, whether it's raining or whether the sun shakes up the bad clouds. Since my adolescence, I have remained faithful to these carefully recorded appointments.

Even today, a long, long time, I waited for her in front of the castle gate. It was always like that, I didn't blame him and I even got used to it. I managed to always be the first to arrive and for her to perceive a little impatience.

At last, she hurried towards me. Her light steps and almost bare feet glided over the cobblestones.

In a breath, giggling or in tears, she apologized for being late and begged forgiveness that I could not refuse her.

Like every Saturday afternoon, we found ourselves so close to each other that each time I couldn't help but grasp the texture of her skin, the radiance of her eyes, the design of her lips. . Finally I got drunk on the silky oriental fragrances that enveloped her.
She indulged in the pleasure of surprising me. A gesture, a pout, a word, and I fell under his spell. She felt delighted and she smiled. She had fun each time being so different so that I could rediscover her again.

Sometimes we would go around the world in eighty minutes. Adorned with finely chiseled jewels, she then wrapped herself in a light and quivering sari of gold and blood. Stricter, she chose a kimono with a clever bun. To surprise me even more, she sometimes changed her dress seven times, unless she chose the elegance of a boubou with colored fabric.

I only saw her, I invited her with a cautious tenderness, taking her hand that she refused to me. My fingers adjusting the stole on his shoulder quivered with ease at the gentle warmth of it. I even came close to censorship by getting too close to her garter. And if a strand of her hair was to dissipate, she was happy that I put it back.

In a mad race, I was dragging him. She let herself go. I found her languid daisy or white daisy on the lawn with freshly cut sprigs, hugging a willow with indolent branches, caressing the sandstone of the stone bridge, or knocking the hammer of a heavy wooden door from feudal times.

The family, who had insisted on accompanying him, did not appreciate the great bond that united us. She followed us by commenting on our actions, our gestures yet so chaste. I knew that they would not let me go with her again this evening. In short, imagine a caricature of parents-in-law!

Time passed and I had to retire. With misty eyes, she would take me by the shoulders to place the mark of our meeting on my cheeks.
As always, the family will win. As she walks away, she will turn around one last time, waving her white handkerchief unless she discreetly drops it.

A little distant, awkward in his costume fearing that someone would be laughed at, perhaps regretting his lost freedom or only thinking of the feast to come stood the one who now for better and worse is accompanying him. Quickly he greeted me already jealous. Not wanting to break my dream, I preferred to hand him the bill, assuring him that I would come by tonight to show him the pictures ordered.

It was like that every Saturday afternoon in the park of the Dungeon of Sainte-Geneviève-des-Bois. It the time for a few black photos and I fell in love with the bride. In the evening I left with a few tickets in my pocket.

Next Saturday I will find her, late again.