Zipper

A man sits on a bench under a cold drizzle. He digs a piece of sausage from his bags and takes a bite. He leans backward without even trying to protect himself from the rain, which mixes with tears that quietly flows from his eyes.

A skinny yellow dog cautiously appears before the man. The man gives the rest of the sausage to the dog. The dog gulps the sausage and sits down next to him. He wipes his eyes and stretches out his hand toward the dog. The dog sniffs his hand but does not allow the man to touch itself.

- It was just a game of hide and seek. Just a comedy. Always did I play a role, says the man in a low voice to the dog. - Always. I was never able to tell her what I really wanted or what was important to me. Not even to myself. I kept on hiding behind my own thoughts.

The dog tilts its head interrogatorily and whisks its tail.

- Her smile truly touched my soul, the man continues. - I was afraid of that. I feared that I might reveal myself. And I did not want anybody to know, I did not want to get hurt.

The dog sniffs the man's bags and barks inquiringly. The man spins his head showing his empty hands to the dog.

- You know what, dog? says the man. - I think that she also hid from herself. She also played a role that she believed she should play. There we were, two incompetents of us playing in the same comedy, each one hiding from oneself and from each other. And neither even found oneself, not to mention the other one.

The dog raises its leg and pisses on the man's rain-soaked bags. The man has sunk to his memories and does not react to the dog's exit. Eventually he rises from his self-made depression, straightens up and leaves to meet the woman of his life. He wants to test if he can open the zipper of his soul.