A flash in the pan

The old medieval castle stood imposing above the historic center of the town.

Below it, like a tail stretching from its base, a trail of street lamps glowing with a warm yellow light wound through the narrow streets of the old village, zigzagging downhill before disappearing from view behind the imposing façade of the church.

A. gazed at that little living nativity scene in awe, made even more enchanting by the bluish light of twilight slowly fading into the night.

He had been born and raised there, yet every single time that view seemed untouched, as if he were seeing it for the first time, just like many other things in that place. He had eaten dinner in a hurry, barely taking a few bites, his stomach tightened by that kind of exciting nervousness that rises when waiting for something important to happen.

And now he was standing there, in the center of the main square, which was beginning to be caressed by a fresh, gentle breeze.

He looked at the clock on the bell tower, then glanced toward the entrance of the bar, then at the still-empty benches, and finally at the windows of the small grocery shop.

Suddenly, the wandering of his eyes was interrupted by a scent carried to his nostrils by the light breeze.

Instinctively, he turned toward the direction from which the wind was coming.

First appeared the open-toed shoes, followed by slender, tanned legs interrupted only by a flowing corduroy skirt. Then came the elegantly curved chest covered by a light white blouse.

Finally, a dark mane of curls held back in a ponytail.

She crossed the square with a quick pace.

In a few seconds, she reached A. and kissed him on the cheek. She always did that every time they met, and to A. it almost seemed as if that gesture was reserved only for him.

This thought was supported by the vivid memory that she never greeted anyone else in their group that way.

Without lingering any longer, they began walking toward one of the many uphill paths that crossed the village and led to the castle.

Twilight had given way to night, and the yellow street lamps that A. had been admiring moments before guided their steps.

He tried to savor every second, every step that brought them closer to their destination. Every shadow of theirs that disappeared beneath one light and was reborn under the next became engraved in his memory.

Soon they reached their destination. Now the majestic stone fortress towered above them.

Huge spotlights with a slightly orange glow illuminated it from below, making it appear even more imposing.

After a furtive glance around, A. helped her climb the first part of the ascent. The scaffolding was high but easy to climb; in fact, with little effort and in just a few minutes, they found themselves above, standing on the highest tower of the structure.

The light from the large spotlights did not reach them there, leaving them wrapped in a calm and silent darkness, so dense it almost felt as though it could be touched, sinking deep into their lungs with every breath.

Once their eyes had adjusted to the darkness, they sat down, settling themselves on the stone ledge that surrounded the tower.

Their legs dangled over the void, yet they were safe, protected by a thick iron beam.

There were no obstacles now between them and the sky.

With their eyes turned upward, they began admiring the stars.

They were clearly visible thanks to the privileged position they had secretly earned for themselves.

In the middle of that astronomical observation, A. felt her fingers searching for his.

Delicate, long, and smooth, they intertwined with his, and A. had to take a deeper breath because the previous one had been interrupted the moment he felt her skin against his.

In that solemn silence, A. could clearly hear her breathing, slightly more hurried than before.

She was not trying to hide it. On the contrary, she seemed to deliberately emphasize it, almost as if she wanted to invite him closer without having the courage to say it aloud.

When A. finally decided to turn and look at her fully, she was already watching him, her lips curved into a faint smile.

Now their eyes were locked on each other.

A. was pleasantly surprised and relieved to feel no embarrassment. Instead, he was able to hold her gaze proudly, the gaze of someone who was drawn to her by an invisible force, yet one that felt undeniably real.

And then, in the middle of that silent dance of glances, the sky suddenly tore open.

A powerful greenish light cut through the darkness, illuminating the landscape below as if it were daytime. It crossed the sky in a curved trajectory and, disappearing among the stars, left behind a long silver trail that took a while to fade away.

They watched that spectacle, the very reason they had climbed up there, not directly through their own eyes, but reflected in each other’s gaze.

And they were not sorry for having missed it.

Because they knew that, unlike that event—which, no matter how rare, would happen again—their eyes would never meet that way again.