Soledad sale de su casa. Como siempre está apurada...miles de cosas en su mente, miles de cosas que siente. Son las dos de la tarde, un día caliente en Miami, el tránsito de locos, las luces de los semáforos... Bocinas de los coches. Y mientras maneja se deja llevar por los recuerdos del momento, de momentos compartidos...tiene miedo a lo deconocido, miedo a entregarse de nuevo de darse en cuerpo y alma... y mientras maneja escucha a Luis Miguel piensa , y sin darse cuenta no vé la luz del semáforo de la esquina, siente de pronto como que está entre nubes, vé pequeñas estrellas a lo lejos y luego...solo silencio.... Se despierta en el hospital...no entiende nada, le duele el cuerpo y también la cara, quiere mover las piernas pero no puede...comienza a llorar sin darse cuenta...
Continuará...
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He stands at the doorway watching Solidad leave. For him it's love. He does not know in his heart how she passed this night. They made the love but spoke very little.
He want's to be her everything and more. There is a deeper darker side that he senses in her. His words have evoked stronger feelings then he was prepared for at times, when they talked over fruit and wine while they exchanged kisses.
They should be together.....he knows it and somewhere inside she knows it too.
So his love walks away as Marco's heart breaks. He has told her of his great love....and has shown her he is willing to love her in her way, but she has let fear grab hold and has chosen to run.....run away with Marco's heart and run away from her last true love. He thinks “ I’m sorry Solidad I apologize and I love you!”
He waits and he aches....he will pray daily for her return
The night is even restless as the sounds of cars trucks and the blare of sirens
as they race to someone else’s tragedy float thru Marco’s dreams.
The day begins and Marco is reading the morning paper and trying to keep his mind off Solidad and the life of loneliness he feels he will live without her. As he reads intently he turns the page and sees a small column called local blotter. Described was an accident that took place about 1 mile from his place….but what really struck him was the description of the car and driver…..it couldn’t be…..he read on…no name listed….just a description…..small, dark hair driving a black Lexus.
With sweat forming on his brow he picks up the phone. His fingers tremble as he punches in an all too familiar number. It rings and goes to voice mail...."Where can she be? It's 9:40 in the morning....she is generally around now. A chill runs down his body as he rereads the column....did it say what hospital the victim was taken to.....He must know....and he fears he already does