It started slowly, something that happens to everyone. A not ironed shirt, a flower less on Sunday. Then each one began to dine alone.
She thought it was his fault. How long didn't they go in the meadows to watch the sunset? And that silence? Didn't he love her?
He thought it was her fault. How long didn't she look at him with pride? And that wait? What were they waiting?
It finished fast, something that doesn't happen to everyone. They had dinner together and he brought her some flowers and she took him in the meadows. A new future.
A whole galaxy. Ogling stars, the moon stares at me, swallows me. I float quietly in the nothingness.
I think I left from billions of light years, to me it seems a second, but I'm still traveling. On my planet they'll have to wait million years to get the answer, but when I left they knew they wouldn't welcome me when I got back. All I have to do is find the border, the edge after which everything falls and there's no longer the universe, neither the galaxies or the emptiness that surrounds them. But this damned emptiness never ends.
Adam understood that he doesn't know too much things. Nobody explained to him that after the trees there's a lowland, that the floating ball in the sky is made of fire or that you can't capture it.
He doesn't know that what he feels is hunger, but he knows that when he puts something in his mouth the pain will stop.
Adam calls himself, he explained to others that his N.A.M.E, the way they'll call only him, is A.D.A.M.
He pronounces it again, tasting it, before jumping off the branch and getting to the plain and becoming the first man.