See You In Montevideo -

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

She thought about not going. About finishing her coffee, walking back to the ferry terminal, and returning to Buenos Aires. She could pretend the letter had never arrived. She could go back to her quiet apartment, her books, her memories of a husband who had loved her without reservation. She could let the past stay where it belonged. See You in Montevideo

So this is me, finally showing up. Late. Too late, probably. But I’ll be here. At the bench on the rambla, the one just past the old pier, every evening until the end of the month. I’ll be the old man with the grey beard and the bad leg, staring at the water like he’s waiting for a ghost. She folded the letter and handed it back to him

“After tomorrow,” she said, “we’ll see.” About finishing her coffee, walking back to the