wanderley
—
I was waiting for you to come here to our house, Wando. I called you because my wife and I bought a souvenir of our passage through your old Bahia: banana candy, wrapped in a banana leaf.
I was going to take the opportunity to ask you to fix my shower and the faucet in the bathroom. I was waiting for you to get better. We all were.
I arrived after my wife (you’re nice) at the hospital. I tried to comfort those who lost you more than I lost you. I also tried to make you okay, even after you were gone; I asked them not to remove your moustache or your goatee. I just didn’t leave you smiling. It wasn’t possible and neither was the time. For the first time, I didn’t laugh beside you.
I was going to talk about you, but I talked about me.
You were like that. First the others and then you.