Every morning, the man would walk down the little road, counting the october leaves on the floor and waiting for the sun to rise. A cold breeze would touch his skin, reminding him of his childhood near the sea.

Every day, at 7 o´clock, he would stand in front of that window, the one with beautiful white curtains, adorned by japanese letters, in that little house, with the blue door.

He would stare at those symbols for three hundred and sixty seconds, trying to decipher their meaning.

After that, he would walk away, starting his day and singing the lines of a song about lost love.

“you must be somewhere in London, you must be loving your life in the rain…”

At seven past seven, the woman behind the closed curtains would wake up to the sound of the clock alarm and to a fading singing voice outside her window.

“you must be somewhere in London, walking every lane”

For another five minutes, she would stay in bed, breathing life in and out, up and down.

At a quarter past seven, she would be looking at herself in the mirror and waiting for the recognizant that took a while to happen.

At eight, she would be walking down the road, counting her steps to the bus station. The wind would go through her hair, making it fly in every direction. She would smile and wait.

The next day, everything would be the same. And the next day, and the next,  for exactly one month.

After thirty days, he would get married and she would give birth to a child.

The years would pass. Their routines would change.

But he would always remember the curtains.

And she would never forget the song.

And life would march forward.

Unmercifully.

giving credit where credit is due: the song mentioned in the short story can be found here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JVp7C5vzMgw