People We Know

arre, esse texto se recusou a ser escrito em portugues. Desculpem, isso nao tem nada ver com preferencias culturais, nao mesmo. Eh soh que historias sao coisas incrivelmente caprichosas.

"Love forgives... love forgives it all", he'd say again. Then somewhere in his mind a voice would tell him that these are the lies that keep this world spinning, that he was alright saying such things to himself but, anyway, he'd never fool his own heart, and the voice would say it was sorry for him. He was sorry for himself as well.
Yesterday he heard another of those nasty stories. Someone saw his girlfriend with that guy that uses to send messages to her on the internet, and sadly - people said - they were kissing.
Deadly pain crawled through his soul. He said nothing, but then again, he never does. He went home, took a shower, counted to ten and sat on his bed. "They may have her body", he thought, "they may even keep her fucking underwear, forgodssake, but they'll never ever have her heart".
Sobbing and humming her favorite song, he cried himselft to sleep.