Gota de agua. Ficción

Desconozco el tipo de rana que me había salvado la vida y la verdad no quise averiguarlo. Me tenía perturbado el tipo de alucinaciones que me seguía causando aún una semana después. Esa gota de agua golpeando constantemente me tenía loco. Al principio corrí a revisar todas las llaves, hasta que supe que solo estaba en mi cabeza.

Mis sentimientos estaban revueltos. Sabía que había vivido algo con Sara, pero no podía recordar que tipo de relación era. Estar al borde de la muerte te puede hacer considerar tus perspectivas. Pero asesinarla?. Oh, otra vez ese molesto sonido, si tan solo esa gota de agua sonara diferente.

Tomé el fajo de billetes que me había dejado el calvo y lo guardé dentro del saco ya que era la única bolsa que tenía con sierre. Ya me empezaban a doler las muelas con ese ruido incesante. Tenía que comer algo para recuperar fuerzas. Entonces recapacité en que si ya había pasado una semana seguramente ya había yo comido algo, de otra manera estaría mas débil o tal vez muerto por esta herida que parecía estar cicatrizando bien.

Fui a la cocina para ver si encontraba algo de comer. Había señales de que alguien había comido recientemente y sobre la mesa de la cocina había algunas remolachas algo viejas. Una memoria vaga vino a mi mente entre gota y gota. Algo me está haciendo tener episodios de amnescia. Luego recordé que nunca había salido al patio, salí y encontré a un tipo muerto con un tiro en el pecho y otro en la cabeza que estaba bajo la grifo de agua que goteaba…

Drop of water. Fiction

I don't know the type of frog that had saved my life and I really didn't want to find out. I was disturbed by the kind of hallucinations that were still causing me even a week later. That constantly hitting drop of water had me crazy. At first I ran to check all the faucets, until I knew it was just in my head.

My feelings were mixed. I knew I had experienced something with Sara, but I couldn't remember what kind of relationship it was. Being on the verge of death can make you consider your prospects. But murder her? Oh, that annoying sound again, if only that drop of water sounded different.

I took the wad of bills that the bald man had left me and put it inside the bag since it was the only bag I had with a saw. My teeth were already beginning to ache with that incessant noise. I had to eat something to regain strength. Then I realized that if a week had already passed, surely I had already eaten something, otherwise I would be weaker or perhaps dead from this wound that seemed to be healing well.

I went to the kitchen to see if I could find something to eat. There were signs that someone had recently eaten and on the kitchen table were some rather old beets. A vague memory came to mind between drop and drop. Something is causing me to have episodes of amnescia. Then I remembered that I had never gone out to the patio, I went out and found a dead guy with a shot in the chest and another in the head who was under the leaking water tap ...