Piensa en mi cuando sufras. Última Entrega

IX. Day. Kitchen. Officer turns into an Automat

- Poor boy, it must be a really tough case for you huh?
- Yes, miss
- Well, dont you worry, Im going yo make it dead simple. Show me to your police car, we'll go catch the bad guy.
- Can I make the sirens wail?
- Of course you can! You are the law enforcer! You have to make sirens wail right?
- Right, right... So are we going after that James guy then?
- Oh no! Lord Charles is the bad guy, remember? Repeat after me: Lord
- Lord
- Charles
- Charles
- Is
- Is
- The
- The
- Bad
- Bad
- Guy
- Guy
- Very good!

X. Day. Sally's Coffiure. Best of Lucks from James

- They are coming after you.
- How do you know.
- Because I sent them.
- Right. You Bastard.
- I just did it because I know Im the bad guy.
- No, George was the bad guy, you are just a...
- Little bitch? Whore? Tramp? I'm the bad guy, Charles. Not a half-hearted stick-selling criminal, but a silver screen villain. I'm like Bette Davies in 'Jezebel'...
- But with a bald spot
- Yes. With a bald spot. You were always the funniest, though you never managed to distinguish when we were laughing with you, and when we were laughing at you.
- So tell me James, which kind of laugh is this one
-... I heard you dont shower anymore.
- I turned indie, after my wife died
- Car crash right? Im so sorry, Charles
- Dont be, I merely meant to use her death as a reference in time, I actually turned indie because its good for politics. Talking about wifes though, weren't you sleeping with George's?
- There is this thing she does, you see. Some sort of gourmet voodoo. But dont think she could even fry an egg properly, she just knows how to shop for good paté. At first, there was that. Then there was the fact that having sex with her got on George's nerve, which gave me an advantage in our Scrabble matches.
- So you slept with George's wife because of Scrabble.
- Right. And also because I knew I could use her to further incriminate you
-Further incriminate me? I walked through the crowded boulevard with a stick still bloody from my cheating lover's murder
- Perhaps I over-planned
- Perhaps
-...
-...
- Listen, I called to tell you why I did all the things I did. I mentioned 'Jezebel' remember? You know how in that movie Bette Davies is all conceited, and let's some guy die just to show her first and only love, who married another woman, some point she isn't really sure about?
- You are going to tell me you were in love with George?
-Of course not! If I were to use Jezebel just as an example of how much of bad ass I am, I would be wasting such a clever analogy. Bette Davies wasn't even at her meanest in that movie. What's important is how after fucking up everybody's life she decides to sacrifice herself for her man, even if he is married to a much nicer, way thinner, woman.
- But you said you didn't even love George, and he is already dead, so I don´t see were the point of you sacrificing could be.
- The point is that after mindlessly messing with other people's life for the sake of being the leading character...
- You mean supporting character, or main villain at most
-Whatever, Charles. The thing is that as a final act of redemption I've decided to warn you about George's wife and some generic cop that by now must be unto you. So go, flee the country if you can, go somewhere nice, like Rio. Best of lucks - click.

XI. Day. Police car outside Sally's. Gourmet voodoo once again

- That's it! Sally's Couffiure, he'll be there!
- Why are you so sure?
- Because there is where Charles and George used to get our hairs done, mine and Charle's wife I mean.
- Did they actually fixed your hairs theirselves?
- Of course not! they just gave directions to make sure our heads said the right thing... Oh don't look at me like that! I mean one's hair could easily say 'wife-like sexy' and be confused with 'slutty-because-of-marital-unhappiness sexy'. Important men can't take that risk!
- May I... Ignore all of that miss, it makes me feel uneasy.
-Sure, why not. Remember this though, Charles we'll resist arrest so you'll have to shoot!
- Do I have to?
- Just if you are interested in this babies
- Are those... codfish croquettes?
- They are. Do you want them?
-Yes miss.
-Real bad?
-Yes miss.
-Good.

XII Day. Sally's Coffiure. Shoot!

Piensa en mi cuando sufras. Cuando llores, tambien piensa en mi. Cuando quieras quitarme la vida, no la quiero, para nada, para nada me sirve, sin ti.... Turn it off, Sally, they are here

- Charles, you killed my husband.
- Yes.
- That was really thoughtless of you, we were getting a new fence for our backyard.
- Im very sorry.
-...
-...
- Well, I guess there isn't much else left to say.
- There isn't.
-Goodbye, Charles.

It seems that the time streches endlessly as the police officer loads and points the gun. But after a while this solemn feeling is replaced by the certainty that the officer was clearly not shooting.

- Its just that I've got so many questions!
- Me too!
- Hi.
- Hi.
- Whats your name?
- Im Sally.
- Nice to meet you Sally, Im the officer.
- Does it all seem in a way... flimsy to you too?
- It does, Sally! Wouldnt it be nice to just sit for a while and discuss it all over a cup of

But then, the wife snatches the gun

- How does this..

BANG!

XII Day. Mohitos in heaven.

- George?
- Charles.
- I'm sorry
- Me too.
- Shall we?
- Sure, wait till you try the mohitos

Piensa en mi cuando sufras. Segunda Entrega

IV. 1995 Night. George's dorm at the Gynechology, Diplomacy and Stick Selling College. Wine gives birth to the Threesome

They lay in a dirty old rug, forming a sort of triangle laying on each others belly. In the middle, several expensive wine bottles pile around a half eaten cake .

- Happy Birthday George.

They all laugh. And then

Esta mañana muy tempranito sali del pueblo con el latigo -They kiss each other in turns- y como entonces la aurora venia yo la recibia cantando como un pajarito- They undress clumsily-. Por los carriles de los rastrojos soy la hormiguita de los despojos. Ay ay ay ay que trabajo nos manda el señor -they form an amazingly complicated pose-, levantarse y volverse agachar, todo el dia los aires y el sol.- George says 'change' and there's a lot of twisting and unclenching - Ay ay ay ay en memoria de mi segador no arrebañes lo campos de mies que detras de los hombres voy yo - But Charles bites, so soon after George says "change" again.

- I thought one couldnt come after six bottles of wine, Georgie.- Gasps suffocate George's small laughter as he lays aside enjoying himself. The other two divide into trivial after sex tasks

Suddenly, there's a small eye fight:

George seems to say, through a lot of blinking and nose wrinkling " Thanks James, you were kind enough not to bite my penis off, couldn't say that much for..."; Charles tries to defend his dignity pointing James with his eyebrows "He was viciously pulling my prick to sabotage me, George!"; James takes a big chunk of cake, smiles, and gultily rolls his eyes "Yes, I was"


V. 1998 Day. The Stick Seller's beach house. Time breaks the threesome into dangerous twosomes

- No.
- Come on George, tell me!
- We are going steady this time, James.
- You are after his money, aren't you?
- I wont be seeing you again.
- Sure, sure, that will last...
- What's that supposed to mean?
- But you must tell me.
- I dont know what you are talking about.
- I mean, does Charles still bites?
- He makes me feel good.
- Not like I do, though.
- Good about myself.
- You.
- And about other people too, even about you, James.
- I... I'll tell him!
- Tell him what?
- About us, any time, as soon as I get bored.
- Im breaking up this affair, right now.
- You can't break us last night, or the night before that. He'll never forgive you.
- He knows he cant trust you.
- He cant trust himself either, he'll think he wasnt pleasing you.
- But he is!
- He'll blame himself, but mostly he'll blame you.
- What do you want?

VI. Day. Sally's Coffiure. As he suffers, Charles thinks of him.

- But if it was a crime of passion why didn't you kill James or George's wife then?
-We all got wifes back in the nineties Sally! It was a standard upper-class conservative gay deal. And anyway, I dont intend to kill James either, it wasnt his fault.
-What! He was the temptress!
-No, George let him into our lives.
- But surely...
-Nothing was sure with George and his drinking, Sally. I needed the bastard, so I had to kill him.
- I thought it was because of all that cheating with his half-brother...
- Yeah, yeah, whatever. please skip "Ne Me Quitte Pas", I'll tell you when to stop.

So Sally starts skipping songs in an completely random yet significant order, thus producing the perfect introductions to the next few chapters

VI. Day. George's Kitchen. Confused officer sees the plot thicken

Odiame por piedad yo te lo pido, odiame sin medida ni clemencia. Odio quiero mas que indeferencia porque el rencor hiere menos que el olvido...Si tu me odias quedare yo convencida de que amaste, amor, con insistencia. Pero ten presente, de acuerdo a la experiencia, que tan solo se odia lo querido.

-Shit blocked number!
-I know who that was, Officer
-Really?
-It was James, my husband's lover, his half-brother, my lover.
-Really?
-Yes, he is the reason Charles killed George!
-Really?
-I had to lie till I knew I could trust you. I know I told you it had to do with the Charles' wife, but wifes where standard issue for upper-class conservative gay men in the nineties. As you said, she was killed in a car accident. Wifes and cars were always repleaceable. It was George cheating on him with James for about twelve years that got him. So he killed him. But what Charles doesn't know is that George had to keep the affair because James was blackmailing him.
- Really?
- James would threaten to tell about the affair if George broke the affair . Charles wouldn't have understood such a silly way to get ripped off. He was a diplomat, you see. And so, George had to keep seeing James who had recently decided to tell Charles anyway.
-Really?

VII. 2001 Night. Gynechology, Diplomacy and Stick Selling College Graduates Annual Gathering, James is missing. Charles loses his face.

Ven amorcito lindo, mi adoración. Cuentame que te pasa mi dulce amor. Celos maldito celos, por que te matan si no hay razon. Ya sabes que yo te quiero y solo es tuyo mi corazon.

- So she puts a bunch of chalk arrows on the floor to lead him unto...
-George... [tell me the truth]
-Yes?
- We weren´t talking about 'Amelie', remember?
- Right..
-We were talking about James, about the live he is leading. I've heard stuff [from your eyes, your smell, your half smile, your distance]. And I'm worried, we have to help him.
- He can help himself,
- You see! You know something that you're not telling me. [Please, George don't let me make a scene]
- I was trusting on your dramatic correction not to ask. James has changed, he isnt the one we knew, Charles
- You mean your half-brother isnt worth worrying about. [I worry about James, to the point it makes me feel stupid, you've make me fear him]
- I mean he deserves the fame he's got.
- George! [Give yourself in please, if you dont Ill have no shame]
- I know it sounds terrible but you have to trust me
- Why? Have you been seeing him any more than I have? Where do you get all this unmovable certainty? [So much for decency]
- I...
- Yes, I think I know that "I...".
- Charles, don't go! let me explain!


VIII. Day. Sally's Coffiure. Sally stops skipping songs, The villain calls.

Por no querer perdonarte me esta matando el dolor. Aunque mi rostro sonria, me estoy muriendo de amor. Llora llora corazon. Llora llora si tienes porque. Que no es delito en el hombre llorar por una mujer.

- I didn't want to believe, Sally. But sometimes it seemed as if George wanted to let me now in a very painful way.
- Sometimes that is the only way, the most decent way.
- Sometimes.

No existe un momento del dia
en que pueda apartarte de mi.

- That's your cellphone Charlie.

El mundo parece distinto
cuando no estas junto a mi.

- I know

No hay bella melodia en que no surjas tu;

-Well, arent you answering?.

ni yo quiero escucharla si no la escuchas tú,
es que te has convertido en parte de mi alma.
Ya nada me consuela,
si no estas tú tambien.

- Hrrr.- Click- Hello?

-Its me.

Piensa en mi cuando sufras

I Day. Crime Scene in the front porch, The wife has a hunch

- My husband had been dead for years officer. He had solid face-to-the-facts emotions, you see. Happiness came to him in a very clear, neatly packaged way.
- And what way was that exactly?
- The way down to the licor store, of course.
- So he was happy when he was drunk
- Oh not only happybut--
- Very, very happy, I see. So, what got in the way of his happines?
- The doctor said he had to stop drinking or he would die. And that, officer, killed him.
- So he no longer drinked.
- He did! but it wasnt cheerful drinking, but obssesive, angst-ridden, suicidal drinking.
- This got him in to trouble.
- Yes, he and my lover would have the most dreadful fights about --
- Wait, he and your lover were friends?
-They were half-brothers
- And did he knew..
- Yes of course!
-Oh, Im sorry miss. But please, back to the fights.
- They would get into awful theasaurus fights over an ordinary game of Scrabble, Im afraid I had to call the police in more than one occasion.
-So do you think that perhaps one of this fights got a bit out of control, perhaps your husband had tried to use some incredibly silly word like "Flipacointwice" and your lover couldnt cope with it so he decided to take out the knife and slice poor George into...
-I thought you said he had been murdered with a stick, just as he answered the door.
- Yes. Yes. I mean, did you see George's half brother with any suspicious stick las night?
- No, not any suspicious sticks, he sold them, you see.
-He sold sticks?
- It was the family business
- Did George sell sticks too?
- No.. he was kind of a black sheep in his family. He was a gynechologist, specialist in fertility puns.
-Sorry I thought I heard you say fertility puns.
- Its a new sort of therapy, he invented it. It entailed him joking people into having babies.Quite revolucionary.
-Did it actually worked?
- He said that if it had worked on me it could work on almost anybody, but it didnt. All that punning got him several enemies. I bet it was one of them unsatisfied costumers that killed him with a stick to incriminate my lover.
- Well... that sounds like.. like an actually good hunch
- Thank you, officer
- You are quite a perceptive women.
-Oh you are just saying that... do you want to come in? I mean, you must be tired, standing ther, taking all those notes, with that... tight uniform.
-Uhm. Yes. No, see I have to go down to the station and report on--
-Come in, Ill make some crepés
-I-- Oh well.

II Day. Through a crowded boulevar, the killer walks to her friend Sally's Coffieur

The killer walked through the boulevard with his bloody stick, barking at people like a mad man. he was a bearded man, but not a neatly bearded man, but a fried-chicken-and-cheetos-stained-bearded man. He had big earphones over a long black greasy hair. He was listening to Olga Guillot's "Enseñame Tu" as he turned the corner and entered into a generic dinner. He asked for the bathroom. The waitress told him. When he got out, he was as unpleasant looking as before, but back on the street he stopped barking at people. Peeing put him in a better mood.

Once at Sally's

-But really Charlie, couldnt you at least lose the bloody stick.
-They're not chasing me Sally, the police must know the difference between--
-Between a killer that hasnt taken a bath in four years and a crook.
-Hey, you got somewhere to connect this?
- You too? I feel like im the only person alive that hasnt got an Ipod.
-You might just be, Sally, go on put something by

"Hace un año que te fuiste, y aun no se me va el sabor..."

III Day. Kitchen. Officer pussy whipped with gourmet shit

- Mhmm, that was good wasnt it, officer?
-Ehrm, yes miss, that was, ehrm, fine cheese.
-What about the crepes.
- They were good too, I guess.
-Oh officer, you've stained your shirt
-No problem miss, I'll..
-But let me.
-No, really..
- Dont be shy..
- Im not shy!

(...)

-So now its clear that the killer was Lord Charles.
-What?
-Come on officer, I know cheese can get to a man´s head but please try to keep up!
-But you just brought that up! It's not fair to use as an argument to pass judgment on my fine cheese eating.
- Look, salty boy, the killer was Lord Charles, the missing filanthropist, he was pissed one of my husband's puns had made his wife suicidal...
- But Lord Charles' wife died in a car accident, because of the papparazzi! And lord Charles isnt missing at all, he just turned indie!
- I thought policemen didnt read that sort of news you should be embarrassed.
- I... I overheard it at some pub. I was drinking. A lot. With some very tough blokes.

Devuelveme mi amor para matarlo,
devuelveme el cariño que te di

-Whats that?

Tu no eres quien merece conservahlo

-Oh shit its my George's cellphone

tu ya no vales nada para mi

-Where is it?

devuelveme el rosario de mi madre

-I think it comes from..

Y quedate con todo lo demao

- Here it is. I've got it

Lo tuyo te lo envio cualquier tarde

- Give me that!

No quiero que me veas nunca máoouu

- No! Stay put silly woman - click- Hello?

- She is right officer, Charles is the killer. George was cheating on him, with me.

-What?! Who are you?

Laura P. N° 2

Desde el asiento de copiloto vemos el departamento y nos atrae un gran ventanal sucio en el que parpadea una luz fluorescente como disparos en mute.

Estamos ahora más cerca, la fachada fue alguna vez de falso mármol blanco, ahora es uno más de los dientes amarillentos del centro.

En el lobby: un vigilante mira con indiferencia un monitor diminuto. Primerísimo primer plano de sus gruesas gafas, vemos el reflejo de dos mujeres en un talkshow golpeándose.

Frente a una puerta descascarada. Cuadro negro, el sonido de llaves.

En el cuarto del fluorescente parpadeante: por primera vez vemos al oficial de espaldas a nosotros. No sabemos que mira alrededor con desprecio por la general sensación de desamparo de aquella sala; podemos, en cambio, ver el reflejo intermitente de la luz sobre su calva, la marca de sudor en su ajustada camisa de crema entero.

Primer plano del rostro del oficial, redonda y brillante de grasa, al acercarse a la puerta del dormitorio. 'Esteban, soy yo'. Surge la leyenda '1996'. Le vemos de cuerpo entero ahora, frente a la puerta, de perfil nos encontramos por primera vez con toda la prominencia de su panza envuelta en una camisa distinta -azul marino entero-, se abre la puerta y escuchamos '¿Cómo mierda entraste tu acá?' El oficial entra a la habitación.

En primer plano el oficial de espaldas, su camisa con una pronunciada campana de sudor, en segundo plano un joven escuálido de ojos saltones y serquillo engomado, sentado al borde de la cama, observándole incómodo. ' He usado tu llave, Esteban, dime, ¿cómo has entrado tú?' 'Un amigo me esperaba acá desde la mañana yo le...' 'Le habías dejado quedarse luego de pasar la noche ¿no es así?' Esteban se tira para atrás sonriendo, suspira. Primer plano de su rostro ' Eres un loco de mierda, Merino. Si pues, me lo tire'-descendemos por su cuerpo frágil y triste: la camiseta roja con fragmentos inconexos de mensajes positivos en ingles; el borde de su abdomen con dos o tres vellos; su buzo gris con manchas amarillas; sus pies descalzos, planos, de dedos anormalmente alargados-' ya se va quedando dos veces, me recibe después de la academia y nos ponemos a ver tele hasta la madrugada y después follamos hasta que sea hora de volver a la academia ... Bueh, de igual voy a necesitar que me devuelvas esa llave, se va el fin a Trujillo' ' ¿Has hablado con tu madre últimamente, Esteban?'- volvemos, su cuerpo no ha cambiado pero una vez en su rostro nos sorprende una expresión de terror- ' Le he dicho que has dejado de ir a la academia, va a dejar de enviarte dinero.' Volvemos al oficial de espaldas y a Esteban, recostado sobre la cama de manera que solo vemos sus pies hasta el instante en que salta de golpe y se abalanza sobre el oficial. Forcejean durante unos segundos, luego el oficial le estampa contra la puerta. Primer plano sus rostros, ambos están agitados, el oficial descansa su frente en la de él, se desliza de manera que su perfil esconde el rostro de Esteban que ha dejado de intentar zafarse, le dice al oído ' No te preocupes sobrinito, yo me voy a ocupar de ti, pero tienes que comportarte...

Estamos frente a la puerta descascarada. El oficial sale, por un instante escuchamos a Esteban que le maldice con alaridos llorosos, luego cierra la puerta detrás de sí y desciende, le seguimos durante el primer tramo de escalones pero le dejamos en el primer descanso, por un rato escuchamos aun el rechinar de su mano contra la baranda. Aparece la leyenda ‘2006’ escuchamos carcajadas y luego quejas lujuriosas, de repente aparecen entrelazados los cuerpos de Esteban y Laura. Le ha levantado contra la pared, pero a Laura le ha dado frío el metal de la baranda en el culo y ha saltado como una loca, casi se han desplomado ambos escalera abajo, pero él les ha contenido, la tiene de la cintura en el aire y no le suelta. Sube las escaleras y le seguimos, su cuerpo ha cambiado: lleva un bibidí negro que delinea una espalda ancha, sus hombros, a los que se aferra Laura, se han abultado, al igual que sus piernas que avanzan firmes hacia una puerta cotidianamente barnizada. Con Laura sobre un hombro pataleando entretenida, Esteban tantea en la oscuridad por el cerrojo, finalmente lo encuentra, los amantes pasan pero no les seguimos, la puerta se cierra detrás de ellos. La baranda rechina, el oficial aparece en su camiseta crema, reconocemos la calva y las extremidades fofas, de sus movimientos da la impresión que ha perdido algo de vitalidad, sin embargo encuentra el cerrojo sin problemas.

Cuadro negro ‘Esteban, soy yo’ se abre una puerta. Pan right, El oficial: aun agitado de las escaleras; la pared entre la sala tibiamente iluminada y el cuarto; Esteban: aun agitado por los jugueteos de hace tan solo un instante; el cuarto que ha perdido el poster de Oasis por un espejo y un colgador donde esta su uniforme; Laura: aun más agitada ahora, desnudo entre el oficial sádico, su amante celoso y la pared. ‘¿Cómo has entrado aquí?’ volvemos ‘He usado la llave de Laura’ tan pronto alcanzamos la figura de Esteban este salta sobre el oficial y le tumba inmediatamente, Laura cierra la puerta del cuarto tras los hombres que se revuelcan en la sala. Nos quedamos con ella, escuchando detrás de la puerta, al sonido del forcejeo lo reemplaza un gemido de rabia antigua acompasado por golpes secos contra el parqué. El ruido se detiene, se abre la puerta de las escaleras. Y luego se abre esta puerta, sin embargo, Laura reacciona demasiado lento y Esteban ya le ha tomado por el brazo y los cabellos. Pan left, a través de la sala con Laura tratando de librarse, gritando de dolor y frustración, Esteban impasible le arrastra hasta la puerta del departamento y le lanza junto al cuerpo ensangrentado del oficial, cierra la puerta detrás de sí. ‘El desgraciado arregló esa bendita luz’

para Mario R. por joderme con que escriba esta historia

Laura P. Nº1

Se que algunas de estas cosas habrán de sonarte un poco suicidas, Laura y, de alguna manera, todo intento de alejarme de ti lo ha sido. Sin embargo, no debes sentirte responsable por el destino de mi cuerpo o mi alma.

La madrugada del doce Esteban habría estado terminando el testamento en que te dejaba dos botellas de bismutol y una colección de imanes de refrigerador de deliverys; ambos sabemos que tenia un sentido del humor algo retorcido: te daba todo lo que le quedaba para acusarte por lo poco que le dejaste. Sabemos que inmediatamente después se pego un tiro en la cocina. El arma, a pesar de no figurar en el trozo de papel ensangrentado que era su testamento, también era tuya, Laura. Yo fui personalmente a investigar la escena del crimen y la reconocí inmediatamente como aquella con la que me amenazaste la noche que intente violarte en tu camarín. Tú pensaste que lo amabas, y por ello siempre creíste que yo estaba celoso de él; yo, en cambio, no sentí nunca celos por nadie: podías amar a quien te plazca pero a mí me necesitabas. Cuando tome el arma para chantajearte lo hice tan solo porque me figure que ese tipo de vulgaridades serian necesarias para que entendieses. Pero siempre me has necesitado, y siempre lo harás.

Esteban, antes de ser un sodomita improvisado, era un héroe en la fuerza, por eso los muchachos hicieron de la vista gorda cuando tome el arma y el papelucho donde con mucho esfuerzo podía leerse tu nombre. Tú puedes haberme imaginado aliviado de haberme librado de él, pero en la fuerza nadie dudaría que le quise como a un hermano. Lo que pasa es que eres una egocéntrica y hasta cierto punto te halaga que un hombre pueda complacerse de la muerte de alguien que te pretendía. Esteban no debió morir por un maricón desgraciado como tú; tus lágrimas no pueden limpiarle ni puede ser pleno en tu recuerdo. No puedes más que arruinar lo que es más bello de la juventud: Esteban estaba perdidamente enamorado de una muchacha que, desafortunadamente, tenia pene. Tu deformidad es el lastre de una historia que por lo demás habría sido perfecta en su romanticismo. Por ti, Laura, para los que lo querían Esteban no murió como un joven bello sino como un maricón. En cambio yo, desde un principio estuve enamorado de un hombre que se vestía de mujer, yo soy un pervertido y por eso te merezco.

Mientras no supiste que yo tenía el arma y el testamento, te escondiste. Te imagino odiándote a ti misma cuando no tuviste más que estarme agradecida. Esa noche que te lo dije pude haberte roto el culo y hubieras tenido que soportarlo; pero entonces no hubieras dudado de mi y no te me habrías ofrecido, humillada y helándote, por la ventanilla del auto a la semana siguiente. Si soy un bastardo es porque tú también me has humillado y no podríamos reconocernos hasta que las cuentas estén limpias. Entonces no lo entendiste, pero para cuando leas esto, lo harás.

Espero que cuando veas mi sangre nublando tu imagen en el espejo del camarín te des cuenta que este asunto no es más que un orden alternativo al que quisiste para nuestros cadáveres. Cuando le diste el arma a Esteban para que me mate esperabas que mi cuerpo acabase en algún callejón mugriento, desgraciada la memoria de mi servicio; en cambio, si hubieses podido escoger un lugar para los restos de Esteban hubiera sido este, tu lecho. De haberlo encontrado a él como me verás a mi, seguramente hubieras improvisado en una bella escena de desconsuelo con él entre tus brazos mientras gritas al cielo ‘ ¿porque?!’.Un patético esfuerzo de la imaginacion me permite verte llorandome como debes haberle llorado a él. Laura, amor mío, si me odias por haber privado de belleza a tu sufrimiento espero aprecies el obsequio de acabar mi vida con tu arma.