You cross the threshold of the door humming a song of fashion. With one of these gestures chulescos and unconcerned that necessarily dressed in an American movie and now repeat, you toss the keys on the classroom table ashtray. Felicitas you by your good aim while you there pass against the hallway mirror. You gathers frown while you aguzas the pupils to be sure the time that marks the wall clock. De puta madre.
Dragging the feet as a dying man walking toward the light, you plants in the kitchen. Once there, you rub your chin, upright, hieratic as one of these Egyptian figures, simulating thinking what you think. You deeply regret for having paid to easy cooking programmes the same care that cows in the field dispense you the passage of trains. No. Tea auto convince of the movement is shown walking and hunger cooking prop with resignation of altar boy still has not begun to believe you Adria when you stain your look in the sink. One of these stunning kitchen axes kisses cold steel laundry. You walk moderately, as if you do not want to awaken to what clearly just recently finish a butcher shop. All of it is soaked in blood.
While you swallow saliva, heist you the mind with evil of trasgo news of the newspaper’s makes three days or four? that it warned the population of the escape of the Chupacabras, macabre nickname with which the lemon press named one of the most persecuted murderers of our small country.