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 Fragment #26 - Holding hands

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Aldébaran

Aldébaran



Fragment #26 - Holding hands Empty
MessageSujet: Fragment #26 - Holding hands   Fragment #26 - Holding hands Empty04.01.09 22:46

Thursday 7th February 2008
in London

I put my hand in his hand. With my thumb, I fondle his palm. He smiles to me. I look at him in the eyes and blink twice. He blinks back. I press my hand harder inside his. He does the same.
Since Jonathan has come to London, we haven’t spoke about why I left him, and the time we spent without the other. All is fine as it was when we were together in Dijon. Brave new world old lovers can bring back to reality. Brave new reality of our hearts still bound together after all those months they were parted.
Jonathan speaks better and better English now, he can chat with shopkeepers in Soho, ask for books he’s looking for. We go round Soho together, hand in hand, from a shop window to the other, from art books to underwear to gay pubs.
We enter a Starbucks. I let him ask for a coffee and I ask for a caramel frappuccino with whipped cream. We sit in front of each other. Next to us is a couple speaking French. They have a very strong Parisian accent. They speak about how peculiar and “so British” Soho is. The girl explains how cute it is to see gay people holding hands. I just want to turn towards her and explain that it is not cute, as no one would say straight people are cute holding hands. Even with this “cute” one shows there is a difference between gay and straight people. And there is not. People holding hands are not cute because they are gay, they are cute because they are in love. I close my eyes for a second and come back to reality, slither back into Jonathan conversation. Yes, it is true that British people care much less about everything than French people. Nothing is a problem for them. They just let things happen.
I start to suck the cream out of the cup with my straw. The savoury caramel sticks to my tongue, plays with my papillae. I stick the straw deeper and wolf in a large quantity of chilled coffee. It goes up to my brain, freezing it instantly. I like this moment when you stop thinking.
I stop staring at my cup of coffee; lift my face upwards; and starts staring at Jonathan instead.
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