Aléxia

Nosso cabelo é quase da mesma cor, e amamos bichos de pelúcia. E livros. E doces. Minha amiguinha estudante, perdida entre fórmulas e regras, e eu ali uma presença inquietante e absurda - figurinha na porta às dez da manhã de um domingo de sol. Você tentando me entender e no seu esforço uma ruga na testa, enquanto eu me fingia de forte com lágrimas brotando nos olhos.
E as minhas frases feitas, às vezes pra te impressionar. A verdade é que eu não sou assim tão sábia, sabe? E que estou com saudade. Sinto falta das pessoas que realmente se importam, de repente, tanta falta. Eu apareço aí algumas vezes, aparição que sou, feita de vento com um filme na bolsa e unhas sempre prontas a serem pintadas carmim, um dos códigos das parcas tradições que temos.
Eu até que queria ser mais. Mais presente talvez, menos falha, menos confusa e mais tranquila, mais aí sempre e pra tudo, mas por enquanto não dá.
E eu nem tenho uma foto nossa pra guardar!

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