And when it seemed that all was lost for me, she appeared, with her tormented siren's voice, her soul of tracing paper and her lost look. With that charm that only Greek goddesses possessed. I woke up early like every morning and drove to work. My boss told me he didn't like the way I was working. My boss told me to smile as he buried the dagger in my stomach. I delivered packages to entire cities. I kicked empty bottles and threw stones in different time zones. The fire of Medellín finally knocked me down, but it was the sky of Buenos Aires that gave me the coup de grace. People walked down the street with gift bags in their hands and looked happy. I would go around New York hotels looking for her, but when I asked if they had seen her they would say no or that she had already left. Son, that girl is a ghost. Near one of the entrances to a subway a blond boy asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up and I pointed to a dog that was swatting flies with its tail. I want to be that dog. The boy smiled and stuck his tongue out at me. I had to wait for him to grow up so I could get even with him. That morning I had put on my best shirt, bathed and over-scented. I had a feeling. I was sure I was going to find her. I waited for her all afternoon but she didn't show up. The owner of the hotel hammered on the door to make me leave the place. I lit a cigarette and didn't let the smoke out. On a flyer it said she had been gone a long time. She left and I could tell her absolutely nothing.
YOU ARE READING
I.C.U
General Fiction"Debbie Harry and Kurt Cobain; Luca Prodan; a city that burns; a freckled girl who leaves; a war on a mysterious island and a cursed writer are the flashes that run through the mind of a teenager who suffered a motorcycle accident."
