I was lying like having been beaten on that big, overdimensioned armchair,
Brain dead but functional.
You were sitting on that new stylish sofa,
Worn out, but looking sharp and pretty as always.

In front of you, in front of me,
M was sitting on the carpet,
Trying to build a tower of cardboard boxes.

You asked me what we have in common.

After unsuccessfully running the comparisons,
For (what felt like) several minutes,
I said – only the future.