Note #11

Then Simone said goodbye. Not to me — I barely knew her. Though she was an excellent and well-regarded artist in town, Simone chose to say goodbye to the world. And in the most tragic way. I had been with her a few times, by chance. Back then, she would show me her work and explain a little about art. I pretended to understand; she pretended I did, and the conversation flowed well enough. Every now and then, if it wasn’t my father, it was them — that strange couple who kept the town’s gossip alive. But that was no trouble. Small towns are like that, after all. But today, Simone said goodbye. So goodbye, Simone. Until some other time, in whatever time may come.