aga10

He caught up with her and gently touched her arm. A shiver ran through her. She wasn't familiar with such touch. Usually, touch was aggressive, or intrusive. It was never selfless. It always demanded, or demanded, or sometimes even wanted something by force. Now it was only and exclusively friendly. She looked into Little One's eyes. Beautiful, blue eyes. She couldn't read anything in them. She wondered if he knew he couldn't go back to the wall? He'd taken a different path. And for those who chose something else, there was no going back. He chose her, not the twists and turns. Maybe that was a good thing... She kept moving forward. She had no idea what she would do with herself, but now she felt more at ease; she wasn't alone. Little One was there. Right next to her. Ready to help at any moment. Because what matters on the road is that there's always someone nearby to give us a hand when the going gets tough, to give us water when we're thirsty, to lift us up when we fall. What matters is a helping hand, always there for us. He offered her his, and she didn't reject it. The friendship he offered her was all she possessed. It seemed like nothing, yet it meant so much. For some...

They walked for a long time. Words began to flow from deep within them. They both yearned for this. They longed to get to know each other constantly, through words, gestures, through their own breaths. They began to talk. He spoke. He released in one breath everything that had been hurting him for years. He spoke. About his father, who owned his own company, a thriving one, generating significant profits. This was what he had dedicated his life to. The company set his father's schedule, measured the hours, dictated his daily routine. About his mother, who ran a small, exclusive beauty salon. Manicures, facelifts, the latest facials—these were what consumed her constantly. She wasn't home. She had her clients, trips to cafes, gossip over coffee. She also had a son. Once... He spoke of his father's and mother's lack of time. It hurt. This lack of time stabbed him right in the heart. And he wouldn't let himself forget about himself. He felt a thorn in his side, preventing him from taking even a single step without pain. He spoke of freedom. About the damn freedom that hurt like hell, and which young children so often dreamed of. The kind of freedom Aga had. Freedom—no one caring about anyone else, freedom—no prohibitions, no orders. Everyone is allowed to do anything. Freedom is what hurts the most. No one cares about anyone, no one checks on you, no one yells, no one starts fights, no one tells you to clean your room. No one nags you about coming home late. He missed his parents, for them to check if he smoked behind the school, what he did after school. He missed his parents who would keep tabs on him. These were his small, big dreams. So simple, yet so unfulfillable. He dreamed of normality. Of a burnt Sunday dinner, one his mother would make. Because although there was a delicious dinner at home every day, it was ordered from an expensive restaurant, from a chef, not his own mother... Aga listened patiently. He told her about his beautiful little sister, who no longer had parents. This wasn't a beloved dream child. It was a coincidence, born after all these years. They could afford another child. And it looked beautiful. Mom, dad, son, and daughter. A proper model family from a good neighborhood. Two by two. That's four. Four beings deprived of each other. Four family members who didn't know each other... Yes. A coincidence, born after all these years. He hated her because she had forced his mother to quit her job for a while. He felt sorry for her. He knew the little one would end up like him, or worse. He was strong, at least once. And would she be able to fight? Fight for love? Would she even know what love was? After all, no one had shown her that feeling. No one had taught her what love was. They wouldn't. When she grew up, she would know what money was. And freedom... Reality... Her mother never hugged her; she paid her nanny for hugs. A thousand zlotys a month. For love. A paltry price for those who understand that love is priceless. His parents didn't understand. Why? Why couldn't they understand this feeling? It costs nothing... And that was precisely the reason.They were used to paying for everything. Free things didn't fit the good neighborhood. There was no love in this neighborhood. It wasn't polite and fashionable... He didn't say anything more. He couldn't. Tears streamed down his face. She told him too. Everything. About the house they'd thrown her out of, about her mother, who was probably gone now, about Mr. Miecio, about the wall, about the station. About life on a roller coaster. A roller coaster of fate. They understood each other. Two rejected and loveless kids. Two immature teenagers with a baggage of experience... Reality! They decided. They held hands, they knew they would be together. They wanted it. Each wouldn't let the other be hurt, each would give the other enough love to make up for what had been. Each would stick with the other. There would be no more breakdowns; they would create their own private oasis, a place where their desires would be fulfilled. Dreams... You can dream... Dreams do come true. Sometimes...