In ten years

They are rich and symmetrical, the kind of rich people who are both attractive. They are dining on the terrace of a restaurant in the upper part of town, near Catalunya Ràdio. She is wearing a tennis cap and shorts. She's wearing that casual clothing you sometimes see in magazines. He, whose name is Alberto, is fair-haired and dressed more formally. A designer shirt and linen trousers.

"Shall we look at lights?", he asks her. And they talk about lights according to a catalogue he consults on his mobile. “Look, love, for the bedroom? Ooh, not that one, it's dreadful”. And she says: “Dreadful, yes”. “Look what a cute little dog!”, he exclaims, observing a dog traveling in a bag, with a hairstyle more expensive than mine. And she: “Oh, yes!” They also agree on the dog's cuteness and they respond to each other's comments, of course. From the way they are dining – he, a single substantial dish; she, two light ones – it's understood that they still enjoy the 'act' of dining together more than the food itself. Surely, in this house they are decorating, tonight they will set the table and the food won't be as important as the plates and the tablecloths are now. A salad, a cut of meat, glasses of wine, all very ceremonial, with cutlery like those for picking up lettuce. The sofa – which must be luxurious – will be useful for stretching out to watch a series, but they will get sleepy.

So they are at that stage of a couple where both members agree on the decoration, and whoever delegates does so with pleasure, recognizing the other's talent, never fighting. They don't know, because boredom and anger are still a long way off, that one day one of them – if it's a heterosexual couple, it will be him – will absolutely not want to go look at things for 'the home' and will not like at all, or will be indifferent to, what she likes. It's still a long way off, before they stop commenting on little dogs. They can't know that one day, a specific day, they will get on each other's nerves in the kitchen, and no matter how big the kitchen is, one will wait angrily, with a plate in hand to leave in the sink, for the other to close the bin drawer. They don't know that now they are little birds and one day they will be furious bees. Being rich will slow it down a bit – wealth always slows down anger – but in ten years I'll find them here, furious, eating.