One Hundred Years of Solitude

had to knock until the last,
and after an interminable wait
she opened the door for him.
During the day, lying down to
dream, he would secretly
enjoy the memories of the
night before. But when she
came into the house, merry,
indifferent, chatty, he did not
have to make any effort to
hide his tension, because that
woman, whose explosive
laugh frightened off the
doves, had nothing to do with