ALEXANDREThere is something inhumanly slow in the silence of a prison.A suspended beat, a time that no longer passes.Footsteps echo in the corridor, counted, precise.The guard walks ahead of me, his keyring jangling with each step, like a reminder of the world outside.I hadn't returned here since the day of her arrest.Two months have passed, but the memory remained: the door, the flashes, her voice, that cry she had thrown at me like a blade.Today, everything is calmer.But calm is only another form of war.The interview room is small, bare.A metal table, two chairs, a cold neon light.She enters a few minutes later, handcuffed, flanked by two female officers.When she sees me, she stops.Her face has changed.Haggard features, gray hair, eyes hollowed by insomnia.But in her gaze there is that same icy pride—the one that, once, made me obey without question.She sits down slowly.The officers move away.Only the two of us remain."You came," she says simply."Yes."A silence.
Last Updated : 2026-02-25 Read more