An encounter, is not it?

As we entered the store, I saw her reflection in the mirrors on the wall on the left. Her pale face, rosy cheeks with moist eyes, all crowned by the mass of auburn hair. I felt an urgent need to join her, but at the same time to stay behind, without moving.

If she needed help, she would ask. Exultant and overwhelmed, I closed my eyes, as I tried not to fall apart on the chair.

"I did not realize it was so beautiful," she murmured, looking at a marble statue representing Prometheus giving to mankind the knowledge of fire. I do not believe I was ready to understand her better. I had not noticed how remarkable a feat it was. "It was not there last week," she assured me, looking at me, eyes sparkling with pleasure. "Is it not beautiful?"

"Yes," I said between my teeth. "I am impressed." I really wasn't, it was nothing compared to her.

"Of course," she said in an engaging voice.

"Sir, Madam," said a man's voice with a foreign accent that echoed through the silence.

"Good afternoon sir," I said courteously. "You have a beautiful store! Such unique pieces, too."

The man smiled and his hand stroked his mustache.

"This gentleman is an expert then. If I may..." He nodded and I followed him behind a velvet curtain that hid the back room.

Or rather another shop. Pieces exposed here were truly rare, tucked away on shelves and locked cabinets, or in display cases on low tables, all in a diffuse light. I smiled as I touched a wooden music box beautifully crafted with gold, adorned with a dancing girl.

"I thought I would never see you again, Mr. Estrange." His voice betrayed a slight sadness, a whisper of another time.

"Neither did I, Lorenzo." I replied as I caressed the box while memories resurfaced.

"It is still there, sir. I did not want to sell it!"

"Yes, I see."

My fingers refused to detach from it as they followed the gold filigree. They went up the left heel of fine leg, stroked the ruffled tutu and then rose to the arms above the head. As soon as I touched its frail hands, the dancer began to turn and a diaphanous music could be heard in the heavy silence of the room.

"No way!" Lorenzo said, putting his hand to his mouth. "It's impossible! No and no!" he uttered.

"As far as I see," I say with a smile, "she recognizes me." I bent down while continuing to watch the dancing girl. I sighed, got up slowly and removed my hand. At the same time, the music stopped.

"During all these years, I took such good care of this, I checked and even thought I had repaired its mechanism, but every time someone wanted it, it refused to make a single note. I ended up saying it was irreparable. I could not separate myself from it and place it elsewhere. A strong intuition told me to keep it. And there, you just touch it and the dancer dances only for you! It's amazing! How did you do it?"

"I did nothing, you see, I only touched—"

He stared at me and looked at the music box. His face was sad. "It's yours, take it, please."

The atmosphere changed, the flowing air brought a known scent. An idea crossed my mind and I smiled watching Lorenzo. I put a finger on my mouth to show him to be quiet.

The velvet curtain shook and fell. She swept her eyes across the room while preparing to enter, and finally looked in my direction. Alma maintained my gaze a half-second, and all I could read in her eyes was surprise, before she started to explore. There was a squeal of wood when she stopped and looked at a cabinet full of statuettes, with her back turned to the low table where the music box was. She looked at the window and her mouth was slightly open out of concentration, she inspected each work of art exhibited inside. Then, as if an idea crossed her mind she blinked her eyes twice, and then turned with great caution, froze, and scrutinized the music box, troubled. Her expression gave me a big smile. She seemed to be having an undeniable discovery. The thought that Alma had a link with the old music box - no matter what it meant to me - made me laugh as she walked and looked straight ahead, seeing only the box. At the same time, one of my strange visions carried me away: indistinct images swirling in my head. I saw myself in these images, surrounded by strange shadows I could not identify - misty forms, inaccurate. Suddenly, I saw myself in the light of the setting sun in a place known to me, which I already contemplated in one of my visions! Someone was with me, but again, I was unable to identify who it was. The images trembled and disappeared into a variegated light.

"This is not much," I said, and I followed her gaze riveted to the music box, when my vision went away.

She did not even look at me.

"I'm not sure," she said by raising her hand to touch the dancer girl. "I think however..." She said no more, and knelt down in front of the table.

"But... what..." Lorenzo's voice rose. I looked at him hard and put my finger on my lips. His terrified eyes amused me.

"I think I heard something," Alma said aloud.

Her head bent to the left and her eyes narrowed, approaching closer for better look. And as a child, she finally touched the dancer. I closed my eyes to hold back my tears. I heard the clicking of the spring that turned the dancer, and I expected that it would begin to dance, but nothing happened. I opened my eyes. Lorenzo, wide-eyed, had a hand over his wide open mouth and the other pointed at Alma. She was still kneeling in front of the music box, but this time the dancer girl had turned around and was facing her. I could have sworn the dancer was smiling at Alma!

"You are gorgeous," she murmured in a breath.

The music rose and the dancer began to turn in the opposite direction. Alma did not expect that, any more than I did, and we frowned our eyebrows and looked at each other. The dancer made a full turn and then she changed direction.

Lorenzo came away from Alma and spoke quietly to me. His voice was barely audible: "You do not say that..."

"An encounter, is not it?" I said and I burst into disastrous laughter.

I looked at Alma with tenderness, I understood better now that our meeting was not just an accident. Or maybe fate was doing good things. I did not know what to think.

"It will keep for now, will it not?" I said, suddenly worried.

She stood up and joined me, not without casting a sad look to the dancer. I pulled the curtain and she passed through, head down, into the other room. Lorenzo turned away without a word, and walked quickly.

The sky was gray above our heads. The rain was light and I ignored it, while it moistened my hair. I shook my arms around my chest and breathed in short gasps, looking at Alma, the corners of her mouth down, as she walked slowly at my side.

She was not looking at me. Sometimes, she peered at the clouds and regarded them with a grimace, as if they offended personally. I was disappointed by her silence.

Would she talk to me? Would I talk to her first?

She combed her thick curls with her fingers, and smoothed them back as if she was trying to dry them.

No, it would not be better if I explained. I needed to be alone.