Die Villa

The sunlight fought its way laboriously through the dense canopy of the trees, refracted on the window pane and slid gently down onto my coffee cup.

I sank into this sight, until the imagination switched on to give the story a direction of its own. You stood on the balcony, your eyes closed, and enjoyed the warmth of the rays on your eyelids. As in an impressionist painting, you were a fleeting brushstroke of imagination and reality.

I stepped out onto the balcony to exchange a few words with you. Suddenly you turned around and the boundary between imagination and reality dissolved.