It was already dark when she had came back to her room from the noisy city, her feet kissed by the afternoon rain and her make-up seemed to have made their way down their guarded positions by two inches. She flipped on the switch on the yellow desk lamp, then with one hand holding onto a cabinet, she struggled to pull off her boots with the other but the excess moisture between her socks and the leather seemed to have formed an inseparable bond. She stumbled for a few steps, almost enough to cross half her room, then finally chose to sit down on a chair. She propped up one foot, then with both hands, she grabbed the heel of one boot and pulled with all her strength. At first it did not budge, but after five seconds the boot had gave in at last and flew off her hands like a rocket, sailing through the air and landed on her freshly-washed pillow. She stared at her splashed pillowcase for a while, watching little mud spots emerge and sink in like buttons, then she thought of him. Not once had she spilled tears for him since his disappearance two years ago, but all of a sudden she cried; with but a dim light in her room and the other boot still firmly strapped onto her leg, she cried steadily as a wilting fountain.
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