Threads of light

When the evening came, he began to feel the desolation of the night. Despite the loneliness, the prolonged time, and the waiting for the next day, Miss Amal seemed to him an indisputable reality, like an unwanted fetal movement. At this moment, the clock was striking nine in one of the corners of the house, and that familiar ringtone reminded him of the crises of early youth, as if she had once ag...