No doubt you wonder, dear Platero, why Stefano keeps spitting on the ground each time we pass his house and I greet him with a slight bow of the head.
We grew up in the same neighborhood and became good friends. Later we went to college in the same big city , where we got drunk from the same beer and whispered similar sweet words in girls ears. We were convinced the world was on our feet and nothing would change that.
Until… civil war broke out and the blood brothers became sworn enemies.
Time heals many wounds, Platero, but clearly not all.
Author Notes: Hervé (°1968 – Ronse, Belgium) started writing short stories whilst recovering from a sports injury and he hasn’t stopped since. Generally he writes them hatless and barefooted.
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Belgium • 56 years old