I'm looking for a way not to think about you. It's one of the hardest things I've ever tried to do. I can't stop. Why is that?
I barely know you. We met at the supermarket once, I think. Fuck, I don't even know where I met you. But well, these whiskeys have reminded me of that fragment of you.
They say when you take forgetfulness. Yeah, maybe in the raw one. But now I remember you bitterly.
Although, like I said, I barely know who you are. I overheard your name because... oh, yeah! I remember it already! You were standing in front of me at the ATM, in the grocery line. You had few things to pay for. The cashier just asked your name. You told her: Maria.
That night I was drunk too. Yeah, otherwise I wouldn't have done that. Well, maybe so, but in a more discreet way.
I tried to follow your figure. Unfortunately, your blue blouse was too worldly. I lost sight of you in a second. I didn't know where you lived or what car you drove. I only knew your name. How to find you? At the time I didn't understand.
I tried to think of something else. I'm serious. But I couldn't. Your face and your sweet voice were soaked in me all night long. I had to find you. Only then would I be at peace. "Sure!" I thought of that moment. I got my computer out. I hooked it up. After I turned it on, I looked you up on Facebook. It wasn't easy at all. So many Marias stranded around the world. The night was long. I wasn't in any hurry.
After 4 hours I found your picture. You were dating a kid in your arms, but I didn't care about that. Maria Cespedes. That was, judging by your profile, your name.
I found out your address. How could I not know it! You had a picture with your little boy in the garden of your house. That photograph was easy to track. Due to the ground regulations, as well as the rocky structure of the highway, it was logical that the house would be in the Manantial neighborhood. All you had to do was search Google Earth to find out the exact location.
Snakes #71. I'd see you there when you were alone. Or at least just with the kid.
Snakes #71. Snakes #71. Snakes #71. That's all I remembered back then, when I woke up in the shower.
Had he done anything that night? Well, yes, he had obviously done things, because the house was completely disorganized, but other than that, had he committed any crime? I didn't think so at the time. When I went out on the street, that impression was erased.
Neighbors did not pay attention to their activities as soon as he crossed in front of them. Even Mrs. Clotilde, who can be seen watering her plants all the time, stopped just to look at me. I didn't know what those looks were accusing me of until I associated them with the voices. "There goes the weirdo," he used to say, amidst murmurs, a couple.
I was at the supermarket. People kept seeing me and talking about me like I wasn't there. I grabbed some groceries cautiously. I formed in line.
There it was. She was now wearing a red blouse, with her son on one side, in a box next to mine. I couldn't help but notice her. As soon as she saw me, her smile replaced her with a frown. "Police" he screamed.
Behind me, two officers handcuffed me. I didn't even moan: I knew why they were arresting me. It was logical. There was no need to reconstruct memory in the mind.
Let's just say my innocent espionage passed from a computer screen to the front door of your house.