this came to me in a long and painful night It started as a spark; a random crash of two rocks. It then ignited a few wooden branches and weeds, burning timidly in the night. Later, it grew into logs piled on other logs burning softly together, finally warming a cold nocturnal heart. Then it became a passionate house fire that destroyed all that it found, a force of nature that consumed all what was and all what was meant to be. That gave way to a forest fire; a savage, uncontrolled, scorching inferno spouted by hell to prove it did not exist; a flaming monster that reached out of my heart set alight by her eyes and encircled heaven entire, bringing destruction to the divine and exploding the celestial vault into smithereens. The burning pieces of non-existent heaven dwindled to ashes that rained down on my life, obscuring her spectre and shaping the nightmare I had long dreaded to face, the same I knew was coming. The cinder incubus grew, unchecked, engulfing her with its horrid...
It's 2002. She makes a joke at my expense. I feel happy. I feel wanted . I feel needed . For once, I do not feel like an outlier, like a footnote on my family's history. My friends look at me expecting a reaction, but I can only manage to glance in her direction trying to steal a flash from those determined eyes I have come to admire so much. I get nothing. I think she is as nervous as I am, but she does not show it. It's 2023. I am sitting alone in a small flat trying to recall the elusive feeling of 21 long years prior and, to my surprise and grand delight, it is still here . It's 2002. The war that ravages the country feels closer to the cities now, and I am a member of the reserve army. There is a remote chance that I will be called upon to join the military. Fear runs through the community, and one day I find a letter in my grey backpack. It's from her. She has always been a better writer than I can ever hope to be, but this time I can feel her tremulous h...
La mañana del tres de julio de 1994, Nicolás dormía tranquilo. Había que ir a la iglesia, pero faltaban todavía más de dos horas antes de que hubiera que salir. Además, ¿qué otra cosa hace un niño de diez años un domingo por la mañana antes de ir al baño y comer lo que se le atraviese? Sin embargo, este domingo sería diferente. Es cierto también que Nicolás no vivía en un tiempo común. Durante toda su corta vida había vivido entre mujeres, sobreprotegido y medio ciego frente a lo que pasaba más allá del colegio, la iglesia y la casa. Estudiaba en un colegio militar masculino, así que las niñas para él eran solamente esos seres que miraban rayado, andaban en grupos y susurraban todo. "Refunfuñan", decía él. Para agregarle al mundo único de Nicolás, estaba ya acostumbrado a escuchar y ver las noticias. Era costumbre de su tía, como vino a saberse después. La tía también fumaba demasiado, como una chimenea. Nicolás la comparaba a una chimenea de las que había visto en televisió...
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