Conspiracies

1. Bombshell.

It was not surprising that Copenhagen dawned with overcast skies. The sheets on my bed were cold. I reached out for Lasse, my husband, but he was gone. I got up very slowly and put my feet on the frozen ground. I walked barefoot to the window and carefully opened it. A gentle breeze blew through my hair and gave me goosebumps. I took a deep breath and blew out a great breath of air.

I decided it was time to start the day, so I walked to the bathroom to take a shower. I took off my pajamas gently, turned on the tap, and a great waterfall of icy water fell on me. I hurried to switch to the hot water, and a pleasant stream calmed my body. Today was too cold to be winter.

I spent more time in the shower than I should have, thinking. It had been several days since I had seen Lasse. Lately, his job has been demanding more time than usual. He came home very late and left too early. I was beginning to fear that, after twenty-seven years of marriage, we were starting to grow apart.

I came out of the shower clearer; I was already one hundred percent awake. I wore a white blouse accompanied by a black blazer and matching pants and heels. I didn't like wasting time putting on a lot of makeup, so I just put on a little blush and went to the kitchen for breakfast. I looked at the kitchen clock that already read 7:30 am Although there was an hour left before I went to work, I had the magnificent gift of being late everywhere, even having hours in advance.

While having breakfast, I decided to watch the morning news to see with what misfortune the world surprised us today. After a couple of bland headlines on irrelevant topics, one caught my eye. A new corruption case had been uncovered involving several high-ranking political figures. Without the news ending, I already knew how it would end. At first, it would have a lot of media coverage. It would be in the news for several days, and later, a trial would be announced about which nothing would ever be heard, and, finally, corrupt politicians would go free with everything they have stolen in their pockets.

These subjects made me furious, but I didn't want to start the day angry. I turned off the television and finished eating breakfast. I took my bag and put the cell phone and the car keys in. I put on a good coat and a woolen scarf that my son had left for the third time this week.

When I left my house, it was wintry cold. The sky was covered by huge smoke-gray clouds. It was clear that it was going to rain. A blast of cold air nearly blew the scarf off, but I grabbed it tight and put it back on. I walked along the sidewalk, which was slippery since the day before it had rained and the stagnant water had turned into small ice sheets. In front of me, I saw quite warm people, some talking on the phone, others with headphones listening to music, and others simply running because they were already late for work.

I finally got to my car, got in, started, and turned on the heater as quickly as possible. When I finally got to the newsroom, I was lucky enough to park as soon as I arrived. I got out of the car and crossed the sidewalk.

"Hey, getaway." Someone collided with me, and I almost fell to the ground. He was quite a big man, but I didn't answer him; I kept quiet, as I always do.

Since I was little, I have always wanted to avoid conflicts. I have never responded to the hundreds of insults that have been said to me throughout my childhood and much of my adolescence. What they told me was similar to what the man I ran into had told me. But thanks to all that hell that I had been through and that, from time to time, some people made me relive it, I had matured at a very young age. All the professors that I had throughout my academic life recognized my great maturity compared to the rest of the students in the class. They always asked me how they did it, but I never wanted to talk about it. Even having lived in such a situation, I had never been to a psychologist because I always thought I could solve my problems myself.