It was her who noticed me.

I never imagined that accepting this proposal would take me here.
I arrived more than half an hour early to quell my usual fear of making a bad impression. I looked around, all around me, at nothing.

She noticed me.
I parked the car along the dusty road, near the ditch that skirted the cottage. Even though so many years had passed, I still remembered everything by heart. Even though so many years had passed, nothing had changed. I wondered why it wasn’t the same for people.

It was she who noticed me.
In the silence of the countryside, the squeaking of the heavy metal door that I pushed forcefully frightened the birds that escaped by flapping their wings. Alone and in silence I entered the tool shed.

She noticed me.
I let my eyes get used to the darkness. I was the only one who knew where she was but at that moment I didn’t know where to look. I started to look: I moved, I lifted, I turned. I thought maybe I got it wrong. I was on the verge of leaving when she noticed me.

The blackened base was sticking out from underneath a tool. I got closer and I noticed that the body was dented, that the bulb had shattered. I felt the same way. I moved the pile of scrap metal that was crushing it and pulled it out carefully.
Ten minutes to go, I had to get out in a hurry. I wrapped it with a dirty cloth, pressed it to my chest and pulled the big metal handle tight. Without leaving time for the eyes to get used to the light this time, I ran towards the car chased by the sound of my footsteps.

I got in, started the car and drove off. She was beside me, dirty and tired.
“Let’s go home,” I thought without looking back.

Text by Gloria Perosin

Iron, dark etched finish, wooden olive base, dimmer, red fabric coated electric wire. Bulb not included.

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