La puerta crujió feo, como de bisagras resecas, el hombre gordo arrugó la cara, parecía que el peso le agobiaba.

—Creo que es hora de cambiar esas bisagras, — le dijo al señor que estaba detrás de la caja registradora, este le sonrió y se encogió de hombros. El gordo se fue al fondo, a una mesa donde había alguien que miraba, absorto por la vidriera.

—Llegaste temprano, ¡eh!... siempre está tranquilo aquí.
—Sí, puede uno pensar y reflexionar.
El gordo sonrió, arrastró la silla para sentarse.
—¿Estuviste dónde Almeida? Es una lástima cuando la gente muere de esa manera, pero se creen intocables, estuve un rato, no me gustan mucho los funerales, más si el café no es bueno. —el otro sonrió.

—Me acordé de eso y le comenté a los muchachos, ellos dijeron que la familia sabia preparar buen café.
—Es desagradable, una vez le hablé de eso a Almeida, era para que dejara instrucciones en otro funeral, no me acuerdo del finado, le dije como se tenía que preparar un buen café… si no sabes, ve donde Stefano y le preguntas, el prepara un café de calidad... Me salen con un guarapo, se me revolvió el estómago... Por eso está muerto.

El mesonero llegó con una tasa humeante y unas galletas, las colocó con cuidado, el gordo miraba hacia la calle, en ese momento pasaban unas chicas vestidas de una manera muy ligera.

—Ya no quieren vestirse, después le faltan el respeto y se quejan.
—Así es Don Rodrigo, y ahora… ¿qué va a pasar?

El gordo tomó un sorbo de la taza, casi haciendo un ritual, suspiró y miró a la cara a su acompañante.

—Esto es café de calidad... Stefano es un genio… Todo fue fácil, ¿verdad? Las deudas son malas Zapata, conducen a la gente por caminos pedregosos, Almeida fue un buen muchacho… pero es lo que te digo, las deudas.

El gordo lo miró fijamente, el bajó la cara.

—Almeida... es lamentable, fui a mirarlo, quedó muy serio, bueno no tenía motivos para reír, quería decirle lo del café al muy cretino, pero vi a su madre, me miraba, no sé por qué, pero sentí su dedo apuntándome... ¿Qué le dijiste?

—¡Nada Don Rodrigo! bueno... Le dije lo del café, ¡no sé qué pasó! A lo mejor son las circunstancias, era su hijo.

Zapata, sintió unas gotas de sudor rodar por sus sienes, trataba de huir de aquella mirada hierática.

—Debiste decirle que tú lo llevaste a pasear... ¡jajajaja! Solo bromeaba. Pareces asustado.

El gordo volvió a mirar la calle, allí adentro no llegaban los ruidos exteriores y a esa hora no había muchos clientes.

—Sabes, no me gusta la violencia, pero hubiera sido placentero apretar el gatillo, por lo menos el tiro fue en el pecho, tenía el rostro limpio, pude mirarlo, aunque me molestó lo del café, murió por imbécil.

El gordo llamó al mesero, este se acercó.

—¿Todo bien Don Rodrigo o desea algo más?
—¡Como siempre, excelente café!... Aquí tienes la propina.

El gordo se levantó y miro a Zapata. Había un miedo pintado en su rostro.

—Ya sabes amigo Zapata, que me sirvan café de calidad, no se te olvide.

Le dijo adiós a Stefano con la mano, este le sonrió.

The door creaked ugly, like dry hinges, the fat man wrinkled his face, it seemed that the weight was weighing him down.

—I think it's time to change those hinges, — he said to the man behind the cash register, who smiled and shrugged his shoulders. The fat man went to the back, to a table where someone was staring, engrossed in the window.

—You're early, hey, it's always quiet in here.
—Yes, one can think and reflect.
The fat man smiled and dragged the chair over to sit down.
—Have you been to Almeida's? It's a shame when people die like that, but they think they're untouchable, I was there for a while, I don't like funerals very much, especially if the coffee isn't good. -The other smiled.

—I remembered that and told the guys about it, they said the family knew how to make good coffee.
—It's unpleasant, once I spoke to Almeida about it, it was to leave instructions for another funeral, I don't remember the deceased, I told him how to prepare a good coffee... if you don't know, go to Stefano and ask him, he prepares quality coffee... They leave me with a watery coffee, and my stomach turns... That's why he's dead.

The waiter arrived with a steaming cup and some biscuits, he placed them carefully, the fat man looked towards the street, at that moment some girls dressed in a very light way were passing by.

—They don't want to get dressed, then they disrespect him and complain.
—That's right, Don Rodrigo, and now... what's going to happen?

The fat man took a sip from his cup, almost ritualistically, sighed, and looked his companion in the face.

—This is quality coffee? Stefano is a genius... It was all easy, wasn't it? Debts are bad Zapata, they lead people down rocky roads, Almeida was a good boy... but that's what I'm telling you, debts.

The fat man stared at him, he lowered his face.

—Almeida... it's pitiful, I went to look at him, he was very serious, well I had no reason to laugh, I wanted to tell him about the coffee with the cretin, but I saw his mother, she was looking at me, I don't know why, but I felt her finger pointing at me... What did you tell her?

—Nothing, Don Rodrigo! Well... I told him about the coffee, I don't know what happened! Maybe it's the circumstances, it was his son.

Zapata felt a few drops of sweat roll down his temples, he tried to escape from that hieratic look.

—You should have told him that you took him for a walk? hahahaha! I was only joking. You look scared.

The fat man went back to looking at the street, there were no outside noises inside and at that hour there weren't many customers.

—You know, I don't like violence, but it would have been nice to pull the trigger, at least the shot was in the chest, his face was clean, I could look at him, although it bothered me about the coffee, he died for being an asshole.

The fat man called the waiter, who came over.

—Everything all right, Don Rodrigo, or would you like anything else?
—As always, excellent coffee!.... Here's your tip.

The fat man stood up and looked at Zapata. There was fear painted on his face.

—You know my friend Zapata, don't forget to serve me quality coffee, don't forget.

He waved goodbye to Stefano, who smiled at him.