The car lurched to a halt at the traffic light. Marco's mother was concentrated on finding the switch for the rear window windshield wiper.
The rain was coming down in driving sheets of water, while the brushes on the front made the car sway with their every swipe back and forth.
In the back seat, Marco, wrapped in his warm jacket, watched his mother's movements with a certain amusement. It was impossible for her to find that switch!
“Mom, try to turn that lever on the right of the steering wheel” he finally suggested. Marco
was only 12 years old, but he was sharp and awake.
“Found it!” his mother finally exclaimed.
Marco turned his gaze towards the window where drops of rainwater slid like a bobsled
down a ski slope. He enjoyed observing the distorted images of the world, as seen through those bubbles of water.
Suddenly another car stopped in the next lane.
The woman driving seemed intent on explaining something complicated, and as she did so, she continued to stare at the red traffic light in front of her.
The window was foggy with water, but he could see the face of a young girl in the back seat. She looked bored and with her finger was outlining a flower on the steam inside back window.
When the girl's gaze met Marco's, a small smile broke out her face. She had green eyes and light colored hair gathered in a braid.
Marco felt a jolt of surprise when he realized a moment later that she was still staring at him.
Feeling slightly embarrassed, he smiled back and, trying to appear nonchalant, waved timidly at the girl. She stopped tracing the incomplete flower on the window and waved back at him. Then, in an unmarked part of the window, she began to trace a new line with her finger.
It wasn't a design; instead it seemed to be letters of the alphabet. They were strange, though, and hesitant. Marco realized that she was trying to write from right to left, like in a mirror's reflection, so that he could read it on the other side of the window.
“Lara”. It was her name: Lara.
Marco shook his head and breathed on his window to make it foggy and wrote “Marco” with trembling letters.
He didn't quite realize that he'd used his left hand to write backwards, even though he wasn't left handed.
Lara smiled again, less shyly and Marco exchanged the glance, raising his eyebrows.
Lara's finger moved to a still foggy part of the window and began to draw a curve...
maybe a half moon... no, there was a narrow point at the bottom... a heart.
It was definitely a heart.
Marco felt a flash of warmth in his chest and his mouth dropped open in total disbelief.
Lara laughed and pointed her damp finger in the direction of Marco's nose.
He forced himself to recover from his emotions and, still using his left hand, drew the most beautiful heart ever on his own window. It was precise and well-proportioned, rounded and symmetrical.
Lara half closed her eyes and and bend her head sideways. To Marco, that gesture was endlessly beautiful. There was a silent tranquility everywhere and it seemed that even the rain did not want to disturb them.
Marco felt only the warmth that emanated from his heart rose to his throat, until it
flooded into his cheeks and ears...
There was a murmur and the two cars began to move at the same time. Lara's turned,
driving away. Marco only had time to see the girl's head, which turned, attempting in vain to have one last look, and then losing contact forever.
He turned to the heart he had drawn on the window. A few drops of humidity were flowing down, like tears...
He wasn't sad though. Marco was glad to have felt that intense new sensation.
“Mom” he asked, “What is love?”
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