Cloudy Saturday Mornings

Of course, she was young, and still had matters on her heart. Those boyfriends, those unsentimental and insensitive cute creatures, broke and mend her heart many times without knowing. But over the years she had learnt about them.
And oh, forget the notion of love: it could not be chased, but only uncertainly met by fate in the park, on a bench where the guy was feeding pigeons. Or under the roof of a bakery where she was purchasing French bread and found him looking at her as if he had not seen females before. They smile, they looked into each other eyes, and saw a beautiful life laying out in front of them that they would have never dreamed of.
Whatever bad shit life could bring, cancer, deaths, accidents, a poor city drowning in diseases - these lover with their capabilities of dreams would never perish. Their existence, perhaps unknown to the world, was the very crystal that represented a melancholic life itself.

She was so young and only 20. He was only a few years older than her. The world was full of impossibilities and always, possibilities, of the unborn child and the un-tasted rain.