We met at the railway station that day. For goodbyes. She was leaving for Milan or maybe it was Roma. I don’t remember. Her father worked at the Embassy in one of these places. She could not lift her suite case and brought the food she had left over at home. Tiramisu and cherry tomatoes. We shared it and didn’t talk. The train was delayed.
Five minutes after I had left, she texted me acknowledging that it was the ugliest postcard she had ever received. We’ve been friends ever since.
