From Behind

“It’s late, Mario, let me go”.
She threw herself out of the car, fumbled with the lock, for a moment the light illuminated the entrance hall. She wore a shirt that was a little big on her. He was impressed with the image of his thin shoulders disappearing into the door.
He had just asked her to marry him.
“Sabri, wait… where are you running? At least tell me yes or no. “
“No.”
It was the eighties, the years of prospects, of the still open future. He never saw her…