**...
The doorbell rings, announcing the arrival of the boys.
I open the door, ushering in the three gentlemen.
The meeting begins in greetings, appetizers and games of cards won and lost without any notion of time.
The lost seconds jump unseen each time I feel your gaze. Second by second you look at me, and pretend nothing, returning your gaze to the game.
The seconds add up becoming minutes making the aggregate fatigue and end the round. We all take the opportunity to get up, stretch the body and disperse. Trying the appetizers on the table.
That's when I make a sign with my eyes to move away from the group and welcome the hours. The hours of superficial explanation that I find very pleasant.
The hours that form the afternoon in recharged words, in syllables conforming to the others uttered.