Friendship

The blue in the sky was fading, her eyes stood on the doorway of the white building. She looked up, there was nothing above to tell her if she was in the right place, yet, it seemed that way. Well, this must be it. She pressed the button and waited for an answer. ¿Sí? Soy Fernanda. Ah, pásale. The door opened with a buzz. The building had no elevator, she had to go up to the 7th floor by foot. Revolution's face appeared between the steps. ¡Hey!, es acá arriba, sube. Fernanda took a deep breath.

The door to the apartment was open, the light was thin. Revolution knew that their eyes couldn't take a big, shiny light like they did before the war. Fernanda entered carrying a bottle of wine. Traje vino. ¡Perfecto! Va bien con la pasta. They held each other in a warm embrace. Revolution was cooking, Fernanda didn't remember the last time she saw her friend in the kitchen, in fact, she could hardly remember the last time she saw her smiling peacefully. Revolution's face changed over the years. The first time Fernanda met her she was a teenage, her long brown hair falling always on her face, covering a simple smile, her eyes seeing everything behind the round green glasses she always carried around. Revolution was thin and a little tall for her age. Fernanda saw her across the yard, sitting under a tree, reading a book. There was a bunch of kids playing some sort of sport she couldn't recognize,  Revolution didn't care for them, neither did her. Fernanda walked across the yard and sat next to her in silence. Revolution looked at her and smiled. Fernanda opened a book.

- ¿Está bueno?

- Sí... si te gustan las cosas de misterio.

- Uy, me encantan.

- Ah, pues te va a gustar.

Such a simple conversation started a friendship that has lasted for decades. They lived together during college, shared everything. When The Voice started with the revolutionary movement, they joined together.