Your smile put everybody in a good mood, even if it counted only on a single tooth, and was surrounded by myriads of wrinkles. They were the eyes to give light to a face carved from years of endless mental hospital admissions. You did not talk for more than twenty years, not a word, never.
One morning, the meeting at the rehabilitation centre, you arrived hand in hand with Salvatore. You laughed and watched him. He was a lot younger than you, and besides his mental disorder, he also had a serious heart disease.
He looked at you too, shyly.
We all felt a thrill of tenderness and emotion through the air.
I'm not sure if my memory serves me correctly (many years have passed, and hundreds of faces and names), but I think that from that day, you started again to mutter something vague, sometimes.
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