Him and her

Just like that, when you meet them both, you are assaulted by doubts, doubts born from a thousand stories you have read, some you have heard in movies, but here, in front of you, it is happening in person.
Live and direct.
They are, and so they define themselves, like a sunset and a sunrise, like the sun and the moon, one with a thousand stories lived in a time that caused him a thousand and one scars and now, seeing how she can be, can do everything he dared, but with a certain sense of approval from the world around her, just think that she does not accumulate many of those scars that with so much care, continues to heal and treasure in that imaginary room in his head, full of shelves with boxes of memories.
He lived a thousand and one trips in her mind, she tries them every time that time lets her see what is beyond the horizon.
He is of sunsets, of those that the sun, even with strength, refuses to retreat before its eternal enemy, the night.
She is of dawns, of new beginnings, of seeing how a new present full of promises and dreams begins.
He begins the new paths that are presented to him at a measured pace, tireless curiosity, without pausing one iota his desire to keep smiling at the new and wonderful surprises that are presented to him.
She begins with a brief run, with energy oozing from each and every one of her pores, unloading part of it in noticing how the wind caresses her face, how the incipient humidity of the night, persists in clinging to her.
He is the moon.
She is the sun.
And for all their differences…they two are the same desire.
You should listen to them, in those brief moments when they meet, perhaps like when an eclipse occurs and the moon and the sun unite in a single entity, you should see the smiles they give each other, the thousands of «I love yous» they both say just by looking at each other, the…how are you?…from both of them, you see how without a doubt, they both beat in unison, the same desire, the same curiosity, the same pleasure for everything they live with the same thirst you might have after crossing a desert…squeezing every instant.
They are not perfect, neither he for all those stories he has lived, nor she with all the stories she has yet to live.
No, they are not perfect.
But they are sincere, with themselves, with their longing to live, with their desire to feel the rain of this past night, and that he, went out at dawn to get wet in those thousands of drops that gently fell from the sky, perhaps she was sitting, with her eyes closed, feeling how they sounded softly outside, and somehow, knowing that he would be out there, as she did before, another day ago.
On one occasion he told her that he thought she was an old soul, perhaps because he saw himself reflected in her eyes on occasion.
She told him of her surprise when she met him, not realizing, that there was a mirror between them.
If you know them, if you even only know one of them, consider yourself lucky, because this world is short of people like that, people who smile at your soul.
People who squeeze the life out of you.