Written in Her Eyes


The old man was moving slowly, each step well thought about. The evening was still young, maybe a bit afraid that the night will rush in wearing her silky peignoir and a shawl of dreams wrapped around her shoulders.

The little girl was following in his footsteps. She was tall for her 8 years, but light and sheepish.

The old man was playing the unaware game.

The girl picked up a pebble and threw it at the old man. He turned around. Her eyes were still smiling. He winked, then he bent down looking for a pebble.

The little girl put her hands on her hips and half-closed her eyes:

-He who is without sin, let him throw the second stone.

The old man straighten-up and burst into laughter. His unrestrained voice drove away an audience of blackbirds from the close-daring trees.

-Where do we go, Grandad?

-We’re going home, lil’ one, but not just yet. Now we look at the stars. They are watching us too, don’t you know?

It was love in the air. Pure, peaceful, and contagious.