Sara is 18. She studies political science in EHU. She’s in love with Unai. Today is Unai’s 20th birthday. Unai studies Basque Philology, also at the public university. They’ve met up twice to be alone, but nothing intimate has happened yet, not even a kiss. Sara doesn’t know what Unai wants. She, however, wants everything. When Unai proposed skipping classes and wandering the city together to celebrate his birthday, Sara almost fainted. Sara always goes to class, even when she’s sick. But the Sara that’s in love has left the responsible Sara at home.

She’s at the Doña Casilda park at 11am sharp, waiting for Unai to arrive. She sees him in the distance, strolling calmly towards her. She’s a little embarrased for being so early, but she greets him with her hand. The meters until Unai finally comes near her feel like an eternity. Their usual greeting, cheek against cheek. Happy birthday. Saras fingers in Unai’s ear. They’re strolling together now, close but not too close to touch each others hand. Sara reads ABC, the alphabet of the Museum of Bilbao in front of the Fine Arts Museum. Unai asks her if she wants to go in. The museum is free and the audio-guide is in basque. A, art. B has brought Bilbao. In the C room, they’ve become Citoyen. In the D room Sara and Unai looked at each other’s eyes for a micro-second. E for espejo, mirror. In the F Sara wants to be Itziar Carreño. The H has emotionally touched Unai. Sara hasn’t seen the sculptures from the I room. Unai would have tea in the J room’s mug. Sara laughs with Pichichi in the K room. The letter L goes by. The alphabet of the museum even has the LL.

They’ve sat down at the bench of the M room. Very close to one another, touching, finally. Sara has stopped listening to what Kirmen Uribe says in her ear. For Unai, today M is not for Mom, nor Ama, nor mamá, nor Maman. Neither is for Sara.

Lara Izagirre for Ttap Aldizkaria (17-05-19)