composition It was one of those typical Summer days, the sun was burning high, making people avoid staying outside. Outdoors turned into a kind of isolated town where even the elderly ones who are always sitting with their canes on the park seats chatting with his age-peers about those good old times; were nowhere to be seen. Me, on my side, I was babysitting the neighbour's child who was about six months old. The kid was sleeping pleasantly in his crib, which was all a relief, after spending the whole noon trying to make him eat at least half of his meal. One hour and a half later, for the first time since the day started, I could rest at the couch with my now baby-food-soiled blouse, though. I tried my best to fall asleep for just a while, but my mind was going back and forth, reminding me our last argument every time. All of a sudden, a slight foretaste of tears began to moisten my eyelids. Automatically, I grabbed the already rusty necklace that was hanging from my neck and squeezed it with affection. I couldn't help but ask myself what happened to us. I leaned against the pillow and started to weep quietly, I didn't mean to wake the baby. My face was all wet, so I headed the bathroom and locked the door latch. I glanced my image at the mirror and wiped my eyes, without stopping feeling gutted and miserable.