Her need for him started out of nowhere, just like that, out of nothing.
One day she woke up and it was there, like a gray hair you hadn’t noticed before.
Out of nothing.
Out of watching him out of the corner of her eye.
Like an specific hunger for an specific cake, for THAT muffin from THAT place.
Like an impossible craving at midnight in a house with no food.
Her hunger for him was born and started growing.
And speaking, and demanding, and waking her up in the middle of the night.
The hunger was single, but she was married, and so was he.
Hunger, like all things alive, wanted to live.
She learned the human language:
“Next to him, closer to him, touch him, his hand, his face, his leg, go on, go on, keep going…
He’s getting it now.
And hunger got so big it swallowed both of them.
Two puppets playing a part they hadn’t rehearsed before.
Two puppets improvising.
Did i liked it?
Did i REALLY wanted it?
Will he read it on my face?
Hunger, once satisfied, leaves.
And human beings are left alone.
They go back to the address in their credit cards,
Their nice houses, with a smiling partner warm inside.
And they kiss them with closed mouths.
Then lie down in the same bed as always, but they no longer fit.
Now full with a sea of voids, and questions, and feelings.
And a hunger, hunger, hunger.
For the way things were before…