El hombre amanece en su habitación como todos los días, no quiere mover su cuerpo de la cama, no le apetece. La rutina hace que todos sus días sean iguales, despertar, salir al trabajo, regresar a casa, cenar, dormir y repetir el ciclo, es mejor así, todo lo conoce, nada lo sorprende, sabe que esperar y le es cómodo.
Termina de acomodar su cabello y sale a la calle, volteándose para cerrar la puerta de la casa. Detrás de él un mundo en movimiento, cambiante, ruidoso. Una mujer pasa tan cerca de él que pudo percibir su perfume, canela y vainilla, algo dulce, embriagador. Ya olvidó el aroma a mujer. Con el rabo del ojo observa cómo se aleja, lleva puesto un vestido negro, siente que este día SERÁ DIFERENTE.
En la oficina no intercambia con nadie, ni saludos ni miradas. Se centra en su computador ejecutando fielmente su trabajo, absorto entre números y tablas cuando vuelve a identificar el olor a canela y vainilla, haciendo que aparte su mirada de la luz azul hacia la entrada del recinto. Allí esta ella parada detrás de cristal, cabello largo y negro, mirada penetrante, piel pálida, rostro perfecto sin maquillaje. Siente como los bellos de su antebrazo se levantan uno a uno.
Regresa a casa cuando el sol comienza a ocultarse en el horizonte, camina sin prisas, no tiene porqué. Las personas en la calle cruzan a su lado y por primera vez tiene la sensación de que es observado, acelera un poco el paso volteando hacia atrás su cabeza cada tanto buscando identificar a su perseguidor, hasta llegar a su morada, fortaleza y refugio.
La cena de siempre, vegetales, carne y agua, nada de postres, ni bebidas. Sentado frente a la tele con las piernas levantadas cierra los ojos y respira profundo. Desde la esquina de su habitación una mujer se le acerca, lo toma de la mano y lo conduce sin que él ofrezca resistencia, dejando detrás una habitación vacía, una pantalla destellante y un ligero aroma en el aire a canela y vainilla.
Imagen de minalsingla104 en Pixabay
THE MAN AND... SOMEONE? (Esp-Eng)
The man wakes up in his room like every day. He doesn't want to move, he doesn't feel like it. Routine makes all his days the same: wake up, leave for work, return home, have dinner, go to sleep, and repeat the cycle. It's better this way. He knows everything, nothing surprises him, he knows what to expect, and it's comfortable for him.
He finishes arranging his hair and goes outside, turning to close the front door. Behind him, a world in motion, changing, noisy. A woman passes so close that he can smell her perfume, cinnamon and vanilla, something sweet, intoxicating. He has already forgotten the scent of a woman. Out of the corner of his eye, he watches her walk away. She's wearing a black dress. He feels that this day WILL BE DIFFERENT.
At the office, he doesn't exchange greetings or glances with anyone. He focuses on his computer, faithfully carrying out his work, absorbed in numbers and tables, when he again detects the smell of cinnamon and vanilla, causing him to look away from the blue light toward the entrance. There she is standing behind glass, long black hair, penetrating gaze, pale skin, perfect face without makeup. He feels the hairs on his forearm rise one by one.
He returns home as the sun begins to set over the horizon, walking slowly; he doesn't have to. People on the street cross by him, and for the first time he feels he's being watched. He quickens his pace slightly, turning his head back every so often to identify his pursuer, until he reaches his home, fortress and refuge.
The usual dinner: vegetables, meat, and water, no dessert or soft drinks. Sitting in front of the TV with his legs raised, he closes his eyes and breathes deeply. From the corner of his room, a woman approaches him, takes him by the hand, and leads him without resistance, leaving behind an empty room, a flashing screen, and a light scent of cinnamon and vanilla in the air.
Gracias por su visita / Thank you for your visit El texto es de mi creación / The text is my own creation Traducido con google (versión gratuita)/ Translated with google (free version) Imagen de minalsingla104 en Pixabay
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