Читать книгу A Single Breath - Lucy Clarke - Страница 8

We only had two years together, Eva. It wasn’t long enough.

There were still things I was only just beginning to discover about you; that your toes wriggle when you’re nervous; that your standards for cleanliness are bordering on slovenly; that smell is your strongest sense and you sniff everything you buy – books, a new dress, the cellophane wrap of a DVD.

I only recently found the ticklish spot behind your knees that makes you crumple to the ground with gulps of laughter. And I love that my friends think you’re so level-headed and pragmatic – yet you cannot get ready for an evening out without hurtling around the flat performing a circus routine of cleaning your teeth while having a wee, or putting on your make-up in between mouthfuls of dinner.

When we met for the first time and you focused your wide, hazel eyes on me, I felt like I did as a boy – light, hopeful, free.

Like I said, Eva, two years with you wasn’t long enough.

But it was two years more than I deserved.