Tu me manqueras demain
de Heine Bakkeid
'You sait it was the Danish guy's parents who had hired you,' Harvey finally says.
'To do what?'
'I don't quite know,' I reply. 'Seach. Hope can actually be bought, you know.'
'As long as they pay, I search. As long as I search... there's hope that I might find something.'
'Find what, do you think?'
'A magic key to turn back time.' I peer into my coffee mug again as Harvey fills it up. The aroma of the alcohol tickles my nose, heating, breaking open my ruined tear ducts and beckoning clouds of memory from the depths of my mind. Nodding, I open my mouth and swallos. Huge gulps.
'Do you ever findit?' Harvey asks, half mockingly, and looks at me. 'This key?'
'Never,' I reply, with a short, sharp laugh.