One Hundred Years of Solitude

Crespi would tiptoe in at
dusk, with a black ribbon on
his hat, and he would pay a
silent visit to Rebeca, who
seemed to be bleeding to
death inside the black dress
with sleeves down to her
wrists. Just the idea of
thinking about a new date for
the wedding would have been
so irreverent that the
engagement turned into an
eternal relationship, a
fatigued love that no one