I try to wake up, the silence is high. My room is empty, try to actually wake up, I can’t. Sweat. My arms are heavy, as if I was not in my own body, watching the scene from the outside. Small, thin, delicate, soft innocent fingers move, onerous work. I fall in the dark world again, intricate loophole. Monsters of delicacy try to grasp my most hidden thoughts. I open the window, fresh air in my sleepy hair, I jump. I don’t fall. Breathing becomes a conscious work, harder every second that comes, and goes, where has time gone? I scream. Sweating in my warm bed, I open my eyes and think it happened again.

I put on my clothes repeating to myself nothing is wrong. I have to go to work. I prepare some coffee, no sugar, but it is even sweeter than my sour tongue, peach-skinned, pink palate. I drink fast; sometimes gargle with it thinking myself an unsweetened coffee sommelier. I do not want to be late; I hate the idea of it. On time, the way I choose to live, I arrive on the exact time and pick up my work mate. Such a talkative woman, I am still sleeping, trying to smile from time to time between the short spaces she leaves from every and and you know. From the short distance that separates us I can smell her cheap vanilla perfume. I cannot stand it, it reminds me of those fattening ice-creams I used to eat during my childhood summers in my grandmother’s house, flies were all around those sticky yellow ice creams. Mary Rose is dressed in a funny, even ironic way. She always looks at me with repressed anger when I wear something that makes me look desirable, I imagine she criticizes me in her inside –supposing she’s got some- and thinks I am not better than her.

Today, she is wearing a pronounced neckline that leaves nearly nothing to imagination. Her skin is of an unhealthy color; milky yellow, her nipples are pretty noticeable. I guess she is cold, so I turn up the heat. I do not know why I take her to work every day. She makes me sick with her brain full of carnal heterosexual stories ready to be explained to a non-interested cynical mind like mine. Exactly before my gray matter melts, we get to work. It is pretty cold outside; I slowly put on my jacket, with delicacy, fasten my buttons and look at my cheap smelling partner. She prefers not to put on her minuscule jacket, she is much better showing her short denim dress to all those very horny teenagers despite the fact that she could be their own loving mother. The thought of it makes me sick, so I say good-bye and enter the building before her.


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