11:30 pm close my eyes. 11:30 pm I open my eyes.
Sitting on the floor with my head resting on the bed, a cigar smoke filled my room. Background music, more music, the music much more, which sounds in my room with the sole intention to hide my loneliness. I look at the ceiling, I like the roof, challenge the clock, time passes, and I, unfortunately, I'm next to him.
I can not sleep, something bothers me inside, a concern damn, I guess that those concerns have them around the world but I suppose it has long arms down to people, do not speak, I listened much, not much talk in the end nothing ever happens, I chose to live alone in my world, away from you. I need money to eat, to snuff, to drink. Little more. The radio has batteries, the cat has water. The fan moves, though it sounds weird. Everything is in place.
Now I need to know what is it that keeps me awake. The girl's voice singing in my room as much as it bothers me hypnotized. I think if she is torturing me inside. Or if she knows that is what is screwing me. When I'm bad, I think of my last steps, he traveled back and look I've done wrong. One drink more. One more.
a Thursday more than April. My phone rings when you have love, your friends are underground and your enemies do not think you aware that you are looking for, at least, strange that the phone rings. I read the message, "fifty thousand, just do." I read it several times, for a long time since I received those messages. Are fifty thousand euros and I am not mistaken, the need. The game is leaving me broke, do not stop losing thousands and thousands, I think it's a bad streak. And go out. I do not know. What is clear is that there is a man who if he does not return the money, I will do some damage. Hopefully just kill me.
I can not wait for a lucky break to recover that money because I am a lucky guy .... With bad luck. I can not believe how I could lose that game, a pair of aces loses.
I have been stunned, looking at that message. "Just do, I think. Just do. When these people say just do is that it is serious and they want to do anymore. Just do is a key way of saying that we should not hide anything. Just go, give and go. The procedure is the same as always, I have only to answer, "where and when" or no answer. I need that money. I need the damn money. I repeat again and again, I need that fucking money. The girl is singing in my room. Life is not as simple as that things happen, sometimes without realizing it, before something happens, and what you are saying, but you can not tell. We are so stupid they ceased, is a bit late to do anything crazy.
A shot of smoke, my hand reaches the phone and write:
- "where and when." And right
now I can not go back.
Killing someone is not something that makes me feel good, but at least gives meaning to something, that my life is empty. I'm a mistake in this society, and as she was evicted, I try to get back at your stupid justice, its called happiness, and acting. This is fine, this one does not. Things are not so. That makes no sense, I know, but so bad to kill someone like that let me live. Also, I need that money. Without friends and family away, his heart stepped on by someone never forgotten and a cough that never leaves, who cares everything. I'm just going to make another mistake.
I am lifted up from the ground with pain in my back, my shower and I think I will say, they, the bad in this. Where and when I try everything to be automatic, at least think about why, but my head is quiet. Finally the girl on the radio was silent, I have not heard anything he has said in the song, but I have to admit that his voice was dangerously soft. Poor man, who falls in love with her, because until the day you say "we're done" sounds sweet. Start me, a moment of mine and me. I turn off the radio and turn on my stereo. Bang and Olufsen A hundred thousand bucks, with twelve speakers, thrown everywhere. Looking at the tower of disks from the ground and find it. Pete Townsend enter my head while my eyes lit Roger Daltrey.
Everything is meaningless as sweeter. Out of the shower. The grumpy old neighbor broom is hitting the roof. I like the sound of the Substitute beats mixed with those neighbors. And everything goes well, I will not change anything, I can not change anything.
"25 Wood Street, fourth right. By Friday. "That terse message, is a grim epitaph for anyone. Death by 35 cents a message.
Before everything was planned. Studying the movements of the victim, its time of entry, your complexion, where would run or how it was done to avoid leaving fingerprints. Now all I do not, I can open any door of any home, making less noise than a fucking cat.
I can enter that time when everyone should be sleeping, the three forty and four in the morning. I am a romantic misery, for three nights, I woke up completely drenched in sweat at that same time, watching the clock, the 3:44, I woke up three dreams in which a gun shot on my chest. I guess one bad thing happened to me days at that time, and I challenged the destination ... acting at that time. I never sleep before three forty-four. Do not want to die sleeping, I saw death with my eyes.
Curiously, it seems that basically want something goes wrong. For all this to end. When crossing the street with the police, they look as if to say, "you guys, cogedme, I, do not you see? Cogedme! Or continue acting. " Not learn shit. I never say anything, removing hash entertain the kids in the neighborhood.
Thursday, three in the morning. The plaza is totally silent, the beggars seem to sleep. I smoke a cigar. I think I see in my mind, I do easy. You open the door go to bed and a well-aimed blow to the head. View for a few minutes, nothing moves, you go. If people's message said nothing unusual, I find a guy sleeping, and I think good people should not be, otherwise it will not be in this situation.
Thursday, 3:30 am, throw my cigarette, floor. Deep breath. I head home, I look back, one on the street. No one anywhere. I open the portal. I can open any door. It's one of those qualities that are of little use in life. How to make bridge pine or be able to blow out the candles with the tip of my index finger.
Before boarding, I do something strange. Miro mailboxes, never do and not because this time I've been curious. Look, look and read:
Sitting on the floor with my head resting on the bed, a cigar smoke filled my room. Background music, more music, the music much more, which sounds in my room with the sole intention to hide my loneliness. I look at the ceiling, I like the roof, challenge the clock, time passes, and I, unfortunately, I'm next to him.
I can not sleep, something bothers me inside, a concern damn, I guess that those concerns have them around the world but I suppose it has long arms down to people, do not speak, I listened much, not much talk in the end nothing ever happens, I chose to live alone in my world, away from you. I need money to eat, to snuff, to drink. Little more. The radio has batteries, the cat has water. The fan moves, though it sounds weird. Everything is in place. Now I need to know what is it that keeps me awake. The girl's voice singing in my room as much as it bothers me hypnotized. I think if she is torturing me inside. Or if she knows that is what is screwing me. When I'm bad, I think of my last steps, he traveled back and look I've done wrong. One drink more. One more.
a Thursday more than April. My phone rings when you have love, your friends are underground and your enemies do not think you aware that you are looking for, at least, strange that the phone rings. I read the message, "fifty thousand, just do." I read it several times, for a long time since I received those messages. Are fifty thousand euros and I am not mistaken, the need. The game is leaving me broke, do not stop losing thousands and thousands, I think it's a bad streak. And go out. I do not know. What is clear is that there is a man who if he does not return the money, I will do some damage. Hopefully just kill me.
I can not wait for a lucky break to recover that money because I am a lucky guy .... With bad luck. I can not believe how I could lose that game, a pair of aces loses.
I have been stunned, looking at that message. "Just do, I think. Just do. When these people say just do is that it is serious and they want to do anymore. Just do is a key way of saying that we should not hide anything. Just go, give and go. The procedure is the same as always, I have only to answer, "where and when" or no answer. I need that money. I need the damn money. I repeat again and again, I need that fucking money. The girl is singing in my room. Life is not as simple as that things happen, sometimes without realizing it, before something happens, and what you are saying, but you can not tell. We are so stupid they ceased, is a bit late to do anything crazy.
A shot of smoke, my hand reaches the phone and write:
- "where and when." And right
now I can not go back.
Killing someone is not something that makes me feel good, but at least gives meaning to something, that my life is empty. I'm a mistake in this society, and as she was evicted, I try to get back at your stupid justice, its called happiness, and acting. This is fine, this one does not. Things are not so. That makes no sense, I know, but so bad to kill someone like that let me live. Also, I need that money. Without friends and family away, his heart stepped on by someone never forgotten and a cough that never leaves, who cares everything. I'm just going to make another mistake.
I am lifted up from the ground with pain in my back, my shower and I think I will say, they, the bad in this. Where and when I try everything to be automatic, at least think about why, but my head is quiet. Finally the girl on the radio was silent, I have not heard anything he has said in the song, but I have to admit that his voice was dangerously soft. Poor man, who falls in love with her, because until the day you say "we're done" sounds sweet. Start me, a moment of mine and me. I turn off the radio and turn on my stereo. Bang and Olufsen A hundred thousand bucks, with twelve speakers, thrown everywhere. Looking at the tower of disks from the ground and find it. Pete Townsend enter my head while my eyes lit Roger Daltrey.
Everything is meaningless as sweeter. Out of the shower. The grumpy old neighbor broom is hitting the roof. I like the sound of the Substitute beats mixed with those neighbors. And everything goes well, I will not change anything, I can not change anything. "25 Wood Street, fourth right. By Friday. "That terse message, is a grim epitaph for anyone. Death by 35 cents a message.
Before everything was planned. Studying the movements of the victim, its time of entry, your complexion, where would run or how it was done to avoid leaving fingerprints. Now all I do not, I can open any door of any home, making less noise than a fucking cat.
I can enter that time when everyone should be sleeping, the three forty and four in the morning. I am a romantic misery, for three nights, I woke up completely drenched in sweat at that same time, watching the clock, the 3:44, I woke up three dreams in which a gun shot on my chest. I guess one bad thing happened to me days at that time, and I challenged the destination ... acting at that time. I never sleep before three forty-four. Do not want to die sleeping, I saw death with my eyes.
Curiously, it seems that basically want something goes wrong. For all this to end. When crossing the street with the police, they look as if to say, "you guys, cogedme, I, do not you see? Cogedme! Or continue acting. " Not learn shit. I never say anything, removing hash entertain the kids in the neighborhood.
Thursday, three in the morning. The plaza is totally silent, the beggars seem to sleep. I smoke a cigar. I think I see in my mind, I do easy. You open the door go to bed and a well-aimed blow to the head. View for a few minutes, nothing moves, you go. If people's message said nothing unusual, I find a guy sleeping, and I think good people should not be, otherwise it will not be in this situation.
Thursday, 3:30 am, throw my cigarette, floor. Deep breath. I head home, I look back, one on the street. No one anywhere. I open the portal. I can open any door. It's one of those qualities that are of little use in life. How to make bridge pine or be able to blow out the candles with the tip of my index finger.
Before boarding, I do something strange. Miro mailboxes, never do and not because this time I've been curious. Look, look and read:
4 º D "Sheila Down."
climb the stairs without turning on the light. At my pace, came into the room. Stand in front of the door. The sound of an old air conditioner will not let me listen further. That worries me a bit. In my jeans, a small but strong steel rod and an old machete. Should be sufficient. I enter the apartment. Something is not right. The bathroom door lets out a light and I can hear the shower water fall. In a mirror I see that nobody sleeps in the bed of the small apartment. With rod in hand, I'm calm to the bathroom. On the table, pictures of people, strange people exchanging goods. Women's underwear on the floor. A small black nightie in bed. I did not think it was a girl my victim. I keep getting closer to the shower, stealth, look through the small doorway, I just need to know if the girl is back to me. That will suffice. If it is not. I will go and come back another day. She sings. The steamy bath of hot water. Sings really well. But I can not think.
I have to think not. No longer is the time to torment more. Change your voice over the guitar Townsend. I go fast, violently hitting his head, twice. So hard I break the glass shower. The girl falls to the ground. The bloody water. His voice still ringing in my head. I can not get his voice in my head. The water falls on me, the girl on the floor, not moving. Deep breath. My heart pumped hard. I can hardly breathe. I'm nobody, and I still do so. Turn off the water with my gloves, old, soaked. I cover a beautiful young girl with a towel. My sight is lost, when it began to end. Cojo the mysterious photos. I'm leaving. Empty.
I go to the old station square. Along with beggars. One of them looks at me, startled as if my eyes saw my macabre act. It says nothing. Some lame cartoons, sleep there for an hour. Once I dried my clothes on my way. These walks through the old Madrid. With nothing to think. With the girl's voice, singing in French ... inside my head. She was nobody, I'm nobody. Already done. She sang not leave me, leave me ... even after my death. To cover your body. Gold and light. It ended. Do not leave me. I will not mourn over.
I get home. I leave the photos on my bed. I'm sorry, I light a cigarette. Silence the silence of my room my old radio. That voice. On radio, she is. It is the voice of the girl's bathroom. I turn to say, but Jorge never ends with this. My hands killed his voice and his voice gave life to me. Everything can change. Is already. Saturday night, a message, "See you at the concert of Miss White." There, I handed the money. The catch, without question, have a drink. I will.
Saturday. I take a hot shower, you are always afraid it is your door that opens, and your body to go to ground. But if it happens it will happen. I put in my suitcase a few clothes, some music, I make that dirty suitcase. I gather that money and go to the airport. A ticket to Buenos Aires. That is where I start my life. Or end it. I do not know. Everything can change. Everything can change. Just two days everything has changed. No more calls. No more black gloves, red or bathrooms, no more locks morning.
I get coffee, leaning on the bar, I hope the look of a man with a briefcase. The wait is eternal. I order a black russian. As I took, Ms. White sings in the smoke. His voice fills the room. A bearded young man makes a soft chorus. It seems nice. But his heart is weak. Has suffered, I can see. I like the good people. People listened intently, the site is small. A girl smiles from a table, I find it funny smile and a boy with watery eyes, blows his fingers and whistling the sweet song, that maybe I should never hear. Why do these people makes it all look so sweet? What is real world, theirs or the other? It makes me wonder. Why talk about love? "Never ends ...? I have a lump in my throat. Sign a man, raincoat, a scar on his face and a suitcase. He sits next to me. Leave your briefcase, calls for change of twenty. He leaves. I can not leave, the voice of that girl, I was paralyzed. And I start to feel. I was wrong on so many things. Ended my Russian, I take the case, look at the girl. While singing, his eyes frightened with your head, make a slight turn, slow, as if to say do not walk away. Said slowly, do not. See me feel me. Too late.
I leave the room, a car, black in front of me, a few meters, a gun, two bullets in my chest. 3:44 a.m.
open my eyes. 3:44 a.m.
close my eyes.
I leave the room, a car, black in front of me, a few meters, a gun, two bullets in my chest. 3:44 a.m.
open my eyes. 3:44 a.m.
close my eyes.
To Gema and Sheila that almost made me fired from work ... but only almost.
0 comments:
Post a Comment