Pol Rubio, a young philosophy graduate, isn't feeling his best lately. And he usually is. Working at a dead-end job and living an unfulfilling life was not what he had envisioned his life to be. Until one night, when he recalls a previous failed rel...
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This is what success looks like: a guy in his mid-twenties throwing up outside a club; one of his best friends staring at him with...
...concern? No. Judgment? Maybe.
"I'm so happy for you, tío. You're finally going to be a big star! That's just insane. I'm friends with a celebrity," I say to Marc as I wipe my mouth.
Marc laughs and shakes his head. "Seriously Pol. It's just a small role. They could even cut it if they want to."
I stumble as I reach for Marc's shoulders. I stare at him for a bit and I laugh. His hairline has gotten higher since I last saw him. But despite that, he looks more handsome now than before. I think it's the beard. It looks good on him. I wish I could grow a beard like that.
"I'm proud of you, Marc," I say trying to sound as sincere as possible drunk.
He smiles shyly.
"Thanks, Pol."
I kiss him on the cheek and he playfully pushes me away. We continue to walk home, a bottle of beer each in our hands.
"Marc Vilaseca, future Oscar winner," I say as I raise my beer bottle to him and drink from it.
He laughs and shakes his head, almost embarrassed.
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"You sure you're allowed to drink, Pol?"
"What do you mean?"
"Well, you know..."
"It's just HIV, Marc. I don't have terminal cancer."
"Oh" He laughs awkwardly. "But you are okay...right?"
I look at him; his face so full of concern.
"Of course, tío. It's not much of a threat anymore these days and I'm getting the treatment that I need."
"Okay...okay. That's good to know."
We continue to walk quietly as we take sips from our bottles.
"I forgot to ask you about your job, by the way. How is it?" he asks.
