It is 4:57 in the morning.
The cyclist leaves the house.
After a bend, a bench appears.
It is alone.
It isn’t wearing a wedding ring.
It yawns.
Perhaps it was waiting for someone.
But without expectations.
I stop three metres away.
I am almost afraid to go closer.
Out of reverence.
Out of shyness.
Then I gather my courage.
I sit down.
The bench embraces me.
Warmly.
It is more love than friendship.
I am moved.
I cry.
Then I laugh.
Then I sing.
When I set off again, the bench is on my shoulders.
We ride away.
The three of us.
Riccardo 