Sunday, September 19, 2010

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the paper boat (4)

THE PIER




mysterious Carlos attended the event wearing a dress that made him look like someone else. Dyed her hair blonde, dark glasses and a cowboy wear. Institute looked like a boy and not a writer años.Encendió entered a cigar and sat on a bench featuring a full picture of the place pretending to read the newspaper.

Few people were walking in the park and he, as much as he wished, did not notice anything strange. There were no data to give birth to the alleged cita.Un cigarette after another and a thousand skim the newspaper.

At eleven and a half and in the absence of events thought to leave the place and head the publisher but Pier leaving the bank he felt a soft hand stroked her neck.



The tranquility once took center stage inside but not in the questions on his mind. No one behind Carlos. The sensations were fraught with reality, for sure, because someone had cherished with an affection unusual and close ... very close.

A strange and disturbing peace was once again filled his mind a thousand questions, this time loaded with pleasing overtones.

phone rings, a call from the publisher claims it immediately, the issue of the paper is about to close and your item is not edited. Full speed ahead workplace to eliminate Article minutes before closing the issue and then take the road home with the sole desire to rest and try to forget everything.

When you open the door of his house, as always, the first they find their eyes is a photo of her son. Javier was 5 years old and playing in the park pier with a paper boat. Since then nothing was heard of him and the vacuum Carlos appropriated each day was more profound and heartbreaking. A sudden forgetfulness was enough.

Every seven of May every year near the pier without really knowing why. He
paper boat wave never faded from his mind.

Cigarette smoke mingled with her tears, imagining her son would now be a teenager .


..........

Thursday, September 16, 2010

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the paper boat (3).

                                                         NEXT DAY ...

sweet Shooting mid-morning awakening, unusual time for Carlos he felt a reassuring force to open eyes as if nothing had happened.
Or maybe nothing really happened? The confusion was the mistress of his mind.
prepared everything with the intention that the day out as normal.



Salió de casa y tomó un café en el lugar de siempre acompañado por la lectura rápida del periódico local. Después subió al coche para dirigirse a su trabajo, una editorial en la que trabajaba desde hace siete años publicando relatos cortos, poemas y algún ensayo sobre temas de actualidad.Allí se sentía libre pero poco valorado.
Cuando llegó a la editorial todo estaba como cualquier otro día, salvo una nota que encontró sobre la mesa de su despacho. (“Te espero mañana a las diez y media en el embarcadero”). Al leerla sintió un frío paralizante y su mente oscureció de nuevo.



The rest of the day did as he worked, the hours were endless, the pages fell to the trash with a thousand studs and only lived a question in your mind. Who would have written the note?

......