“Do you know Daniel?”
He did, he had just cycled back from the
campfire where Daniel had been playing the guitar.
“He’s staying on the other side of the
island,” he explained, “ I can take you there on my bike if you like”.
She was Portuguese; they were speaking in
English.
“Do you mind?”
He didn’t.
He was lonely, far from home and hadn’t
spoken to someone from Portugal before.
She sat on the back of the bike and he
pedalled across the island; it was not difficult – the island was flat and she
was light.
She put her arms around his waist; he was
happy.
“My name’s Mafalda”
It was evening, the sun was beginning to
set and the island was calm. The scent of pine leaves mixed with the smell of
the sea carried on the breeze.
He took her to the campfire and then cycled
back, the feeling of her arms around his waist kept him company.
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