The page in English

This page is for those abroad readers, who are not Spanish speakers. I will post the translation into English of some of my registered short stories.

So, here we go...

March 30th, 2017.

Inspection day

Today I got to the office and found that a war had broken out. The secretary and the receptionist drew bulk photocopying, my boss yelled impossible orders for all mobile hand, my teammates, the nines, trying to leave the desks tidy. When I greeted her, the few who paid attention to me gasped. I also did when I looked in the bathroom mirror.

There, staring at me from the quicksilver, had a cockatoo. My nose is aquiline but never a peak! I raised my hand to touch it and instead painted my nails protruding from the sleeve of my green blouse horrible white feathers.

I thought I fainted. That day we had a visit from the regional manager and dressed like that. I searched the blush and foundation in the portfolio, I shook hands but I could disguise a little peak. The white feathers gave me a little more work until I managed to comb and give them some shine by rubbing with a tissue.

I heard in the office had made ​​silence no longer my boss shouted, I assumed that the manager had come. I adjusted the straps of the sandals, fixed the white plume and went out to say hello.

Written by Alexandra Jamieson Barreiro, Lidia Rissotto and Braulio Senda.

August 13th, 2014

The dancing girl

          It all started a steamy December afternoon. After many years of absence, I went to visit old friends, who had managed to build their house in suburban Buenos Aires. After lunch under the vine, we recalled old stories, over and over again. When we were leaving, at the evening, I heard street music. The neighborhood street band was practicing before carnival events and we walked just a couple of blocks to hear them.

          They were practicing on the Development Society campus. The battery sounded pretty good and consisted of Bass drum with cymbals, lefty and snare drum. The dancers team, youth and children of both sexes, were practicing a very nice routine tinged with these stunning antics that only street dancers know how to do. The dancers leader caught my attention. She was a young early twenties, pretty, very pretty, blackened hair like a moonless night. Her movements were amazing and graceful. I was fascinated watching her and did not realize when the practical ended. My friend brought me back to reality with a laugh saying "Hey, you remained dumbfounded!"

          We met again two weeks later and enjoyed a beautiful day. When said goodbye I went to hear the street band. I was there just to admire the dancer who had captivated me.

I went twice to see the street-band during January. I used to go just to see her for a while. I watched just as another neighbor and never tried to talk to her. Finally arrived February and Carnival Time. I had decided to go to all parades where the street-band participates and throw a flower to the dancer.

          When she saw the flower down at his feet at the first parade, picked it up, she jumped two or three skips, kissed it and threw it back to the public.

At the second parade, she raised flower delicately kissed her, placed it on his heart and continued her dance routine looking at the audience, perhaps trying to identify the sender.

She saw me when I threw the flower at the third parade! As before, took it in his right hand, kissed her and after an unparalleled caper she stopped a few seconds, which seemed like hours to me, with the flower supported on his heart. I was greeted by raising his multicolor galley and bobbing her head! I was out of myself, not knowing whether to laugh or to dance. I felt full of happiness!

          Then, the Main Parade! The troupe was moving with the rhythm of the battery. The dancers were the delight of the audience with the extraordinary movement of their bodies. But the dancing girl who owned of my heart was not in there. A tall boy was dealing the team. I followed the parade trying to find her between the dancers, but she was not in there...

          At one point, after an incredible somersault, the young man stopped forming an X with arms and legs. Drums stopped ringing and the dancers got like statues... no one moved. The skinny guy removed slowly his galley and silenced the cacophony of the audience with his powerful tenor voice saying…

            "The Princess, who was the soul of this street band, is no longer among us, because God, the Life or the Fate, has decided. To her is the silence of the band.”

           The audience fell silent when the musicians and the dancers fell down on their knees, as disjointed dolls.

           The street band cried... and also cried my heart.

January, 8th, 2014.
The parchment

Hi! It's good to see you again! You had forgotten me! Why did you take me off from  the frame where you put me some time ago? Why did you shut me up in this dark prison, without air, without light, without you? What happened in your life that you did not tell me?

I missed you a lot. I exist just to be with you! I need to know why changed your feelings for me. The hand of a woman created me, and when she did it, placed in me all her tenderness. I did not know what my fate would be until I met you. I clearly remember your surprise to discover me, and the excited smile that lighted up your serious face.

Then you framed me and placed me in your bedroom, in the wall next to the window. At night, I used to see you undress  and go to bed.

I liked so much to see you naked! I liked to watch your sex! I looked at you sleeping every night, sometimes quiet, sometimes restless. It was fun to hear you snoring and muttering against the clock alarm in the morning, dawdling a bit before getting up.

You always looked at me tenderly! I felt your emotion when you caressed me through the protecting glass. It was nice to see you nervous those days when you cannot decide what clothes to wear. It was because you were going to meet her, right?

            Tell me what happened, why did you hide me! You were crying when you brought me out the frame! I missed you a lot. I lose my reason for being if I don’t see you!

No, do not ever bend me like that! No, please do not leave me again!

Nooo... nooo...

August, 20th, 2013

So now, what...

Tonio has recently widowed. Pucho, the stray dog ​​is now his new companion along the hours he spends at the plaza. The dog looks at him, as trying to decrypt human thoughts, while Tonio thinks about his loneliness. He thinks that his loneliness weighs too much on him, much more than the years of his age. How long will he be able to live without the love of his life next to him? How to fill the void left by her absence? His world crumbles and he does not know what to do about it! And the memories... oh, how much pains bring the memories!

- Pucho, you do not have problems, eh! Everyone in the neighborhood look after you. If I don’t come, another neighbor serves you. Instead I ...

Tonio, leans on his cane. He remembers that day with his gaze lost in the infinite. Tonio, leans on his cane. He remembers that day with his gaze lost in the infinite. He got up like every morning and went to prepare breakfast to have it with her wife on the bed as they had been doing since he retired. He returned, with heated croissants of previous day and called her a couple of times but she didn’t answer. Caressing the beloved face, he felt it cold. Alarmed, he shook her wife's shoulder, but she had already gone... He still remembers the piercing cry, that came from deep inside: ELVIRAA! After his inconsolable crying, he called to their sons to tell them, between hiccups that Mom had died sleeping besides him...

- Guess what? Sometimes, I envy you. Yes, I envy you, just as you hear it! You live carefree, running cats, barking at wheels passing by. You eat anything that we bring to you. And you also sleep when and where you want to. Don’t look at me that way! It’s true what I say...

His mind takes him to revive the wake hours. What a nasty thing to remember the tears, the whispering of the people, the ugly smell of flowers, the dim light ... It's a morbid ceremony. And the funeral! That itself is an ugly thing! When he heard the first shovelful of dirt falling down on the coffin, her legs went limp, almost fainted. It was the most horrible experience which he lived.

- Do you know what I’m going to do, Pucho? I will arrange papers for not being veiled. I neither want to be buried ... I'd rather go straight to the oven! And you, what will you do when your time comes?

The dog ends your lunch and throws himself at the feet of Tonio, who keeps his soul deep in sadness. He had never lived alone. He left his parents' home when he married and had shared everyday with his wife, till she died. And now, what? Loneliness… much more than loneliness… desolation! That experience he had never lived. It is too heavy to an old man! How long will it continue? Why his days do not end? How to live without the partner of his life?

- Do you know something, Pucho? I'm going to let me die of sadness! Yeah, that's what I’m going to do! No… no! I will eat a bottle of pills and bye bye! I cannot go on suffering this way  much longer...

The dog looks at him, barks "bauf... bauf..." and supports his snout on man's feet.

It has already dawned and Pucho, lying under the hydrangea, looks carefully to the door. As soon he listens to steps coming, he starts to move his tail. The door opens and Tonio appears, smiling and drinking his morning tea.

- Good morning Pucho! Have you had a good slept?

Nobody could have imagined you were going to choose a place to live! At least with an old curmudgeon like me! Don’t you think so?

Well, well… Get ready; today's walk will be a long one...

May, 7th, 2013

That night...

That night I drove my wife to take the 19:30 bus. Our marriage had been going bad during the last years. What keep us together are the parenting and perhaps the memory of dreams we shared once, but nothing more. At least, this was true for me. I had stopped loving her many years ago. To ease the tension between us, she decided to spend some days at her mother's house.

She went to the bathroom at the bus station. I amused myself by smoking and watching the cars going by the road. Suddenly, a car stopped by my side. The woman behind the wheel asked me if there was nowhere to replenish gasoline. I answered politely, and with a "thank you very much, sir," she went out looking for the gas station. She was a mature beauty, with an enigmatic way of looking... almost defiant.

I turned to look at the car's plate and there was my wife, with vinegar-face, of course.

- I'm still here and you are arranging appointments with another woman?

- Sheet! I had never seen her before! She asked where to carry gas and I answered, that’s all!

But she kept on, once and another, telling each bullshit that crosses her mind. And I standing there, shutting my mouth! Why? I didn’t answer just because she wouldn’t believe me. Luckily the bus came on time and she went far away. But her talking drove me mad...

I sat in the car, put on music and lit another cigarette. A voice inside me became to say: You're a fool! So many years withstanding a relationship that has failed so long ago! Don't you realize that you are losing your life? How many happy hours you have lived?

I put the engine on and I began to retrace my steps. It was a very nice night. The sky was clear. The moon, like a big cheese, got into the rearview mirror. What a beautiful spring evening it was! The leaves of the trees glowed when the headlights caressed them.

Suddenly my mind got settled on that face... on those enigmatic eyes... Is she a puzzle to solve or a challenge to overcome? I thought about it slowly while increasing the speed! Why not? I asked myself over and over. Let’s do it! If I see her again I’ll talk to her... and then... and then let's see what happens! I started to search her car. Anyhow I recalled the plate: JMK-230

I scanned the road ahead of me and I saw position red lights a couple of miles far forward. The cool night air caressed my face. I stepped on the throttle to keep her in sight...

December, 10th, 2012

One of pirates

Second place at 2010 Narrative Contest. House of the Culture, Lanus City Hall.

 Barbacana, behind the counter of his tavern, in some port of La Gran Tortuga, pitcher after pitcher serves its customers, all of them pirates and buccaneers who return from their trips. Between laughter and sea shanties, everybody let up tales or magnifying exploits. When drink begins to become effective, everyone starts remembering fallen comrades and toasting to their memories. Then it’s time to tamper rum, although there is always the good one for those just arriving.

On the lodge’s wall behind him, there are some souvenirs that remind his old life: his captain's hat, a pair of clubs and an always sharp and shiny sword, just in case! A good luck charm hanging from a boarding hook, the wooden leg of a dead comrade, a pennant with crossbones...

Barbacana never talks about his past. What for? Everyone knows his history! After many years, customers still make toast reminding the adventures of “The Distrustful", his ship, which failed to survive during a Caribbean storm coming back for shelter, very battered after a wild battle with Spanish warships.

One little fuss night at the tavern, maybe because there were just a few clients which had gotten scanty spoil, his thoughts drove him into his past adventurous life. Smiling, he can see himself sailing and scanning the sea looking for a quarry. He feels the exciting sensation of flowing adrenaline during a persecution with every sail unfolded by the windward, and keeps smiling with happiness.

The Kitchener wondering what to do with the roasted pig because almost no one eats, and women protesting because no one wants a quickie so tonight they will lack some coins, takes him out of his daydream. Then, hitting a blackjack on the thick bar table, he claims their attention.

-Let's see, brave seamen! What about singing a joyful song: "The homecoming ballad "? There is an extra step of rum for everybody. Barbacana invites...

And the fuss started. Caps and hats flew through the air; everyone begun to sing, clapping and beating on the floorboards and women served the extra adulterated rum into empty pitchers. A harmonic jointed the clamor, and a “tamboril” jointed too; a black one as the hands beating it.

The last customers leave the tavern, hugging each other, completely drunk and singing a song. Kitchener, women and Barbacana put in order the saloon. Then, when his employees had gone to their huts, he lights his tobacco pipe and takes, slowly, a walk till the docks, where ships bob smoothly. The Caribbean Breeze caresses his weathered face and his thoughts fly seaward throughout time…

Here is another night of celebration in the canteen. The customers are too exalted. They all got a good haul and do not skimp on fun expenses. Rum is drinking heavily and women are happy because they have generous customers who are happy to return and willing to enjoy it all. On nights like this Barbacana must be very careful because fights occur without warning; old grudges, a joke performed as an offense, a pitcher dumped, or the dispute over a woman may end with a death in the saloon. And Barbican has never allowed this to happen. Therefore, in addition to his club hanging from the wrist, which is known by many heads, he carries a pistol at his side only to discourage an overbearing boozer.

Two Captains approach the counter to talk to the old fellow. One of them, drinking rum, the good one of course, tells how he missed a boat appeared to be an easy target which was not despite their seafaring skills. Again and again it went out of his reach as he prepared to shoot it until he lost sight of; he looked in vain three days long, until he found another less slippery dam. The ship was called "Claudette" and seemed to be carrying a very rich cargo.

That dawn, in his usual walk along the quays under the moonlight, thinks again and again on the evasive vessel. Would really be that ship the loot that every pirate craves to find? But why cares, if he's already retired from life at sea? But cannot stop thinking about the treasure that is hidden in their cellars and how he could intercept and board it. Finally, shaking his head to drive these thoughts away of his mind, heads back wearily. He could not sleep that night. Just spent thinking in the "Claudette" and how to catch it...

As time passes, returning to his old life turns into an obsession for the old pirate. So much so that one day he decides to walk the docks and wharves looking a ship to sail seaward! The ships belong, tacitly, to the Brotherhood. He is looking through the vessel that his mind conceived to carry out what would be his last adventure. He does not find in the docks any boat as the imagined one, but on the beach of a small bay distinguishes an old schooner completely dismasted with two holes in the hull under the waterline. His heart pounds quickly. He visualizes the repaired schooner sailing under his command. ¡He had already taken a great decision!

As soon as he got the Brotherhood’s approval, he traded the wood and the sails needed, recruited the small crew required, and with them he set about repairing the shattered ship. There was great hubbub on the island when the restored schooner got in the docks and received the supplies. Many old sailors envied the boldness of the veteran pirate, who after so many years on land, decides to get back to sea. When the ship cast off, shots rang out; hats flew into the air and people made many jokes, doubting perhaps the fate of the old comrade, because he could not get all needed cannons and only carries six on each side. But Barbacana has no doubts. He had calculated all possible risks along the last months and was really sure what he had to do.

The cook, a robust Taino who had accompanied him from the beginning, got in charge of the canteen. The "New Distrustful” is already sailing downwind.

A few days later, begins to attack small vessels engaged in trade between the islands and coastal towns, but none of them proved to be a good haul. One morning, in which he was watching a Spanish merchant ship formation on their way to the Iberian peninsula, hoping that one get delayed, he saw a brigantine sailing at a safe distance from the Spanish fleet and in the opposite. He thought it could be the "Claudette", getting back to Louisiana! With the heart beating fast, ordered to change course and the chase started. The greater firepower and bigger sail volume are advantages to the brig, but the wind in the lee is an ally of the schooner, which by its triangular sails is very nimble to sail across. Weaving skillfully, the "New Mistrust" shortens the distance from hour to hour. Now, the spyglass clearly distinguishes the target's name written on the stern. It’s the "Claudette"!

 Suddenly all expectations dissipate. Combat is imminent.  Captain orders ”Everyone to their stations and double portion of rum to everybody!” Barbacana wants to tackle his goal with the least possible damage. He only thinks on the value of the treasure he expects to find on board. It seems to be an impossible mission but he trusts on the strategy in which he had been thinking all the time. Sort carry with shrapnel the two cannons on the deck. Calculates distance between the two ships, measures the time it takes each zigzag handling .He calculates and smiles.

The schooner changes its course, crosses diagonally behind the brig and shoots their guns up to the sails. After that, initiates a backward rotation to keep it away from the guns of the "Claudette". Then, sorts to move cannons from starboard to portside and loaded them with chains and shrapnel. A half of the sails of the brig are broken, but he should not give him time to recover. The brig starts to turn downwind to ramming the schooner, but it crosses again diagonally firing twice their guns. A loud crack is heard, the mainmast falls down. A great shouting breaks out on the schooner. Barbacana orders boarding.

Resistance is not much. The pirate’s courage prevails. The swag is greater than expected. Barbacana returns to the island with the best treasure ever found and a brig as a gift to the Brotherhood! They arrive when the sun still stretches. A round of gunfire wakes up the village. No one is missing when they finally dock. The loot is distributed quickly and Barbacana solemnly delivers both ships to the Brotherhood.

There is a new topic of conversation in the canteen: the old pirate must tell over and over how his last great feat was. The place of honor among his trophies is the banner of “the Claudette". Ah, rum is not adulterated any more

But after closing, a strange ceremony takes place. Part of Barbacana’s loot is a strange casket full of the most beautiful jewelry that no man has ever seen. Every time he tries to take one of them, a female ghost or genius, embodies. She is the most beautiful woman that his eyes had ever seen, but she manages broadsword and dirk as the ablest Caribbean pirate! And so the old sea wolf fights, night after night to be able to touch just a single jewel. Only succeeding, he has access to the coffer, because if winning, she locks herself inside and there is no key that can open the box until the next night...After each engagement with such swordswoman, sipping a mug of rum, Barbacana smiles happily!

           

And time passed away. Long months with long nights. Match after match, fights became fierce when increasing aggressiveness of the custodian of the treasure. One night after losing another match, Barbacana felt extremely tired. Between sips of rum, he took a painful decision. Put his key in the lock of the chest, turned and snapped a kick... "Too bad," he thought, "I will not enjoy such treasure… but I'll get rid of that dangerous enemy."

A new dawn found him brooding. "Should I release it into the depths of the sea or bury it in the heart of the island?

We'll see... By now, the best I can do is getting back to my living as a bartender, without treasures... but without fighting...

August, 30th 2012

Jealousy

          I have known Richard since a long time ago. Sharing the same profession (we’re traveling salesmen) we enjoy our work because we both are by nature, restless.

          When we concur at some place during our trips, we always arrange to have lunch and some talk together.
          This time the meeting was in Rosario, and after dessert time, between coffees, the conversation turned to intimate matters.
          - I have to tell you something that is killing me ... It's all wrong between Lydia and I...
          - What do you say? Fuck you! How long have been since we had dinner at home­? Two weeks? And you looked very good ... Many kisses, a lot of cuddle!
          - Yeah, yeah ... but those were only appearances or wishful thinking.

           Richard finishes his coffee and scowling looks at me, while nervousness I focus on tying knots to the paper napkins.

          - Can you be more specific and tell me what’s going wrong with you?

-Is that Lydia is very strange! She’s almost always tired and complaining by the morning. Our sex is now up to the urgencies she has in mind ...
            - Do you want another coffee?
            - Okay, I do...
          Richard calls the waiter, thinks during the pause looking for helpful words. As soon as the waiter leaves, stirring my coffee, I speak as clear as I can ...
            - A few months ago she got really happy by the time she had met some friends from the old Student Center.
            - But this is great! Meet those friendships and enjoy again the emotions that gave us so much happiness is healthy!
           - Yes ... yes ... but Lidia is out of her mind! Last month I had only one free weekend. Guess what happened! On Saturday, I slept alone at home while she went having dinner with her old friends. To make matters worse, after she went to bed, I could not even touch her. We slept as chickens, each one standing on his own stick ...
           - I think you’re magnifying the situation. Did you speak at least? - Yes, we spoke. She says that nothing happens, that I'm a little persecuted and nothing more; she says she loves me, and that’s all.
           - Do you want me to ask Miriam to talk to her? Perhaps they get a better understanding so they can sort out the trouble. I think you're too accelerated, but only you know what happens with your emotions.
          - No, no, thanks! Maybe I’m just obsessed. Let me see what I can do to clarify this situation, which is really driving me down!

I’m back earlier, a night before the one I should have been. I leave the car in a garage and walk the last blocks. My emotions are completely out of control. The sureness of an infidelity makes me almost to run. Without realizing I arrive to the corner near home, with my heart beating like a drum. Upon hearing keys jingling in my hand, I put them in my pocket. Then I stand at the bus stop and smoke a cigarette. I seek a thousand arguments to compose myself while puffing slowly the unpleasant taste of burnt paper. What a dirty habit I cannot get rid of them!
           I feel as the heart recovers its rhythm while watching the stub flying off from my hand up to the street. Another antisocial habit that I have to correct! Throwing garbage into the street, I mean ...
          Now, to deal with reality! A deep sigh and I walk the last steps. I use both hands so keys do not make noise when opening the gate. Well lubricated hinges, collaborate. To open the door is a bit more difficult. I put the bag on the floor and with both hands turn the key slowly. I wait a few minutes. My ears listen clearly the breeze tickling the leaves.
          Slowly, I remove the key, hang the bag on the shoulder and turn the knob. "That does not make noise, make no noise, please! It didn’t make even a little noise, as well!”

 When opening the door I can feel the warm darkness of the house. I put the bag on the floor against the wall so I won’t fall on it, and slowly close the door while my eyes become accustomed to the gloom.
          Step by step I approach the bedroom. My breathing is slow and rhythmic. It must be dawning because a faint light is coming through the sun blinds slightly open, which gently highlights the objects.
          Two bodies sleep spoon-hugging, back to the window. Their dream is deep and sweet. I can see her face denotes happiness. Who could be the son of a bitch that is screwing me?
         Suddenly he seems to lie on his back and I stretched to see his face as twitch my fists. Fuck you, bastard! But always under the blanket, she extends her hand turning him back so that he is well stuck to her. He sighs deeply and dippers his face into her hair, while a hand slowly slips... looking for her belly or breasts.
          - Those tits are mine! I’ll kill you!
          I scream crazily, but my open mouth does not give off any sound. I want to stick a punch on his head, but my fist doesn’t obey; it weighs like a stone.

That touch seems to like her. She fits her bum against the crotch of the guy and her hand looks the caressing hand. Her lips let out a moan of pleasure turning her head as gifting an ear to the mouth lost in her hair. A smile lights her face...

 - How beautiful you are! Why are you doing this to me?
          I want to caress and whisper that I love her, but I'm just standing there, watching and suffering while my eyes get fill with tears...

          A sound, strange to the calm of the moment, breaks that sort of spell. The alarm alerts that it is time to rise. Now they will see me! I move to switch on the light. The guy who takes my place, rotates, and extends his hand looking for the watch.
          - Now I will see your face, son of a bitch! My hand stops on the key light.
          She moans "no ... no!", and buries her face in the pillow, covering up to the head with the bedspread.

I twist on the bed. My hand that had cherished her looks now for the phone on the desk light, which does not stop ringing. After canceling the alarm, I bring it near to my face to be sure it is time to wake up. Ones more I turn to fit tightly against her body and while caressing, whisper in her ear: "Honey, I’m going to fix breakfast...”

 July 26th, 2012.

A love story

Austin walks nervously from one corner of the street to another. His nervousness is because this is the first time in many years -maybe too many- that he has got a romantic date. He is not a teenager; he is an adult with many scars on him. Anyhow he feels anxious and tries in vain to calm down the beats of his heart.

He looks at his watch, buys candies, comes and goes… When she finally arrives, with a smiles that turns down the beauty of dawn, his ankles tremble, his voice gets strangled inside his throat. She is as beautiful as he could have never imagined she could be…

He can only say: “You look gorgeous!” Then, sit down, to talk and drink a cup of coffee. They met circumstantially six weeks ago and, until this morning, they had never been face to face; they had only been communicated by phone.

He is by nature, sensitive and introvert, but looking at those eyes that have taken his sleep away, he goes right to the point and with simple but sincere words he confesses he has fallen in love with her. Her face reflects surprise and she blushes slightly. Her amazement seems to highlight her beauty and Austin, smiling, enjoys that moment, which will be unforgettable!

-How can it be! All of a sudden! We have only seen each other once!

Those words and the vibrating sound of her voice make him feel more secure. Disconcert in the loved face arises when he says: “When I met you, the way you look seduced me. The depth of your black eyes invited me to drown into, and woke up in my soul feelings never felt before!

Time seems to elapse slowly and the dialogue moves to intimate matters. As friends they talk about their stumbles, their hopes, about past and present time. They do not make plans, but tell each other intimate things and reflect about issues they consider important ones. Their stories are common people’s stories, full of happiness and sadness, plenty of success and failure, ups and downs.

Austin stares at her all the time, just as sipping the life that springs from them… He stops staring only when she smiles, because her smile seems to feed the sun… He cannot believe what is going on. Everything on her makes him happy!

When date was over, they said good bye and agreed to meet again and keep on building their relationship. As a result of this meeting, Austin’s emotional load got so big that everything seemed to be new and felt young himself again, wanting to live once more, and to live a plentiful life. Disconcerting as he has always been, that night he phoned her and sang her a love song.

During the following months, Austin was almost an unknown man to his friends. He got full of optimism, used to sing while walking on the streets and wrote poems of love; he was always smiling and his cold rationality turned to an adolescent sentimentalism.

Although we had been friends for a long, long time, he never took my advice seriously; he had convinced himself that he had fallen in love as never before and the strength and purity of that love were strong enough to stand up to the most adverse situations. Every time I argued with him about that relationship, he answered with a good-natured smile: “You should never forget that the Cuddly Tree blossoms when winter is ending! But just as one day their steps met and kept them side by side for some time, something happened that forced them to take different paths.

One night there was a knock on my door and when I opened it, there was my old friend with a many days beard, scruffy, carrying a bottle of Champagne and a glass in his hands…

-Hi, I need your help!

I could see, because of his talking, he was not drunk and it calmed me down.

-Of course! But pleas, come in.

-No, no thanks. It’s fine here…

He filled half the glass, while a couple of tears slid down his cheeks and I stood silent watching what was going on in amazement. Then he lifted the glass pointing at the sky, and contemplating the moon at its waning quarter, he said:

-I drink a toast to her! I wish she can be very happy!!!

He wetted his lips with the bubbling wine and let the glass fall down. It crashed on the sidewalk. Then he looked to the broken glass and sadly said:

-Just like this fine glass, my love crashed against her indifference…

Then he looked at me, and giving me the bottle, asked:

-Could you please pick these up for me?

I couldn’t say a single word and nodded. Then he walked away slowly, both hands in his pockets and whispering a sad song.

Time relentlessly went by, and Austin kept on with his life, not so jubilant as before, without so much love to give, but standing, and most importantly, without new sorrows.

I never knew the name of who caused him so much pain. He didn’t mention it before neither after his heart got broken. He didn’t talk about her again, neither drank Champagne…

It is something strange, but when they met, he used to describe her in detail; he knew every freckle, every gesture, every curl of her hair, but he never mentioned her name. I remember that just after their first date, telling me about that experience, he only said that to him, she was the dawn of a new day …