V

"— Did Alex live all that time? — Leo thought.”

"— What does it matter? It’s too wonderful.”

Goiânia, Sunday.

The shop had just opened, Alex was the first customer. Rosa seemed to be waiting for him.

— I see you are ready. Here. — said the little girl, handing him a red rosebud. — Give it to her.

— What should I say?

— That’s up to you.

— How much is it?

— Go on...

— Do you wish me luck?

A tall lady, appearing to be forty years old, approached. Smiling discreetly, she bowed to look the young man in the eyes:

— Luck does not walk with love. Go, and take care.

Alex walked with light steps, expecting Rosa to say something. Not a word was heard.

 On the path taken by a literary genius, Alex crafted the most fantastic words. When the time came, nothing could stop him; he wanted it.

He got off at the same stop where Maria would disembark two hours later, on her daily return from Anápolis. He crossed the street and waited on a bench in a small square. From there, they could see his beloved’s arrival.

However, luck was in short supply for him. The bus was already entering the neighborhood, and only a few minutes separated him from his declaration. At that moment, three men surrounded him, asking what valuables he had. Alex, with unusual calm, yawned, stood up, opened his wallet, and took out half of what he had, a good sum of money that made the thieves smile. Then the young man sat down again and stared at the bus stop, waiting.

An intense pressure on his arm, and he found himself thrown to the ground. He got to his feet quickly. He caught a punch with the ease of someone catching a bunch of keys thrown by a friend; little force was applied to his hand, and the attacker knelt down in a mixture of astonishment and pain, only less intense than what Alex felt. A blow that would be lethal to anyone was delivered to the back of his neck.

Alex fell.

— He’s dead... — whispered the man just before taking the rose and eating it.

* * *

That night, many people passed by that street, including Maria, who looked for a few seconds at the unknown body lying a few meters away.

No one helped him.

The immortal young man woke up the next day. It was late; the sun burned his face. He took a small watch with a broken strap from his pocket and checked the time. “Maria had passed by twice since he was attacked.” Without money, he walked to a nearby phone and made a collect call home. No one answered. Leo wouldn’t arrive before 5:30 PM. So Alex returned to the same bench where he had waited the day before. Quite dirty, he didn’t think about taking any important action that day; the only thing that surprised him now was that so much time had passed and no one had collected his body. Ahead, some men were smiling and pointing at him. As soon as Leo learned of the incident, he called home and asked his father to go and help his friend.

Alberto arrived without delay. And not unlike his son, he had an enthusiastic demeanor; much sarcasm and the pursuit of humor were part of his communication. Eva, Leo’s mother, received the visit with great warmth, showing concern. Alex said he had been robbed and only asked for help because he didn't have money to return to Anápolis.

And not only money was missing; his only bank card and an identification document mysteriously made on his second night in town were also stolen. Without documents, with a sore neck, and sad for not having found Maria, he returned to Anápolis, accompanied by his partner. On the way, he asked for permission for a few seconds and went to a public telephone.

* * *

The cold ended quickly; the heat returned. And how intense it was! In the afternoons, the temperature exceeded thirty-five degrees Celsius. Alex swam daily, always introverted, reflecting on the events. His world was confined to his love for Maria, to Leo, whom he considered a brother, and his still-untitled book. With each stroke, the sequence of his story unfolded.

“An immortal, eternally in love; a monster, time; an enemy, his shyness...”

— An escape? — he asked himself.

It was his strange and cold life, like a daydream. All that remained for him was to wait, and how he waited!