14th September. At the lighthouse, in front of the sea, her engagement...

Her life was ending today, 12th September.

The days of the future, teared apart from life, sang, falling in their distant light.

The life was crying from the distant light of the future, above the almost dead soul.

She was trembling, trembling. Her body was trembling, her lips were trembling, her chin was trembling.

Her love! Her love! A swallow thrown in frozen winds.

She couldn't take it anymore. Without voice, she whimpered, closing her eyes. Her head fell on the desk. She was breathing heavily. She moved again her hazy head. She got up, sitting on the edge of the bed. Her head was hung low, too heavy for the body.

It was getting dark. She got up. She went to the veranda.

She opened the door.

She should run!

The thought was so violent that it shook her, staightening her body like a flame.

She bent again.

She returned in the room.

She took the gun out of the suitcase. She sat on the bed, leaning on the pillows. She had a spasm of crying without tears in the cheek's muscles. The gun became too heavy, like if another hand was dragging it down. She rested the hand with the gun on her knee. She was looking for her heart with her left hand.

She held her breathe to hear the heart. Her foreheaad was sweating, leaving her with a salty taste in the corners of her lips.

The hand holding the gun pointed it at the finger that was showing the place of the heart.

Her right thumb was frozen on the trigger.

She looked at the light with a surprised smile.

It was like the motionless silence of a crowd before the applause or before the panic.

In the heart's lock, the bullet got in.

The life rushed out.

Rain of stars, the days of the future fell in the night.

The body fell with the arrow in the heart, like if it was thrown by a horse galloping.

The eyelids trembled on the white eyes.

The silence was like death, in front of the icons.