And although it was hard to admit, she missed him. Occasionally he went through her head, all those memories, and that end. She was convinced that he didn't care, that didn't hurt ... how wrong she was. Every memory was digging thorns in her heart. And what hurts the most was thinking that she wouldn't have been so important for him. This wall that she had built wasn't so tough as she thought. Out of sight, out of mind. But what if he wasn't still out? Maybe she wasn't ready to say goodbye. You still hurt me. And you'll hurt for a while.
"Detrás de este triste espectáculo de palabras, tiembla indeciblemente la esperanza de que me leas, de que no haya muerto del todo en tu memoria." Julio Cortázar.