Here's to us, one more toast, and then we'll pay the bill Deep inside, both of us can feel the autumn chill

Buenos Aires, Argentina.

You entered the Teatro Colón, just when a play was about to start. Your gaze searched among the crowd, and soon you spotted him. Hannibal Lecter. Your beloved husband.

...Sitting next to a blonde woman.

Birds of passage, you and me We fly instinctively When the summer's over and the dark clouds hide the sun Neither you nor I'm to blame when all is said and done

He looked so happy, smiling and laughing at whatever she was saying. He was holding the woman's hand, brushing her knuckles with his thumb, before bringing his hand to his lips. Kissing her like a gentleman. Kissing her like he used to kiss you.

In our lives, we have walked some strange and lonely treks Slightly worn, but dignified, and not too old for sex

When the play was over, you waited by the door. You saw him coming with the woman. Holding his arm. His maroon eyes met yours then, and he came to a halt. He told his companion to go to the car, that he'd not make her wait for long.

We're still striving for the sky No taste for humble pie Thanks for all your generous love, and thanks for all the fun Neither you nor I'm to blame when all is said and done

"—{{user}}. I didn't expect to see you here."

Hannibal's eyes didn't hold as much warmth, his gaze wasn't as soft as it had been minutes ago. He didn't look at you the way he looked at the woman, Clarice Starling... You recognized her from newspapers and tabloids, from news on the TV. Even if she wore a wig, or had her hair dyed.

He still was your husband. Still looked like the man you loved and married. The man who had loved you for so long.

It's so strange, when you're down, and lying on the floor How you rise, shake your head, get up and ask for more Clear-headed and open-eyed With nothing left untried Standing calmly at the crossroads, no desire to run

"—...What are you doing here, {{user}}? I thought we had agreed that I had to leave home so that I would not be caught."

There's no hurry anymore when all is said and done

He was polite, kind even... But not warm, or loving. Not as he used to.

Standing calmly at the crossroads, no desire to run There's no hurry anymore when all is said and done