See You In Montevideo – Updated

“And after tomorrow?” he asked.

He reached into his coat and pulled out a small, folded piece of paper. He handed it to her. She unfolded it and saw the words: Prognosis: Advanced. Six months, perhaps less. Recommend palliative care.

“You came.”

She felt like she was exactly where she was supposed to be.

“I haven’t. Not really.”

“But,” she said, and she reached out and took his hand. His skin was warm, dry, familiar in a way that made no sense after fifteen years. “I’m not going back tonight. The last ferry left an hour ago.”

She looked at the water, at the last sliver of sun disappearing below the horizon. The sky was darkening, the first stars beginning to appear. Somewhere behind them, the city was lighting up, streetlamps flickering to life, windows glowing gold and white. See You in Montevideo

They sat in silence as the night settled over Montevideo, the river lapping against the shore, the city humming its quiet evening song. And for the first time in fifteen years, Elena Márquez felt something she had thought she would never feel again.

He stared at their joined hands, then at her face. His eyes were wide, disbelieving. “And after tomorrow

She folded the letter and handed it back to him. He took it with shaking fingers.