In the days that followed, I considered the meaning of the revelation.
It seemed as thought a door that should have opened for one
soul only, had opened for two. Later, I came to realise
she had left a mark on the trail of her dying. It moved gently
through the city like a brook in the dry season, just a trickle
of warmth.

 

The letter arrived one week after her death. It was delivered
directly to my door in an unmarked envelope. The writing
was unmistakeably nicola's, brief to the point of madness. The paper
 gave off the faintest, sweetest odour of jasmin.

 

Dear Jorge,

 

If this letter has found its way to you then i am dead.

If you love me as much as I believe you do, you will set aside

your practicalities for a moment and pay attention to what i have to say.

What can be made, can be unmade. What is broken can also be fixed.

 

Find me in the dream and bring me back,

 

Yours always,

Nicola.