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I get exhausted to Boedo, feeling the unmistakable smell of the subway, the rush of air just support I put the foot in the corridor under the avenue and posters pass quickly; may be life is no longer an absurd wound, just a series of photos sent to me by whatsapp for friends, my brothers, some coworkers; many times I asked Rolo who knows everything about the history of Buenos Aires, if he had any idea why precisely this station, which it has the irreplaceable corner and illuminated at night, was designed with such bad taste, he also knows that sometimes I obsess with issues that are not important, then ventured an answer, and in these small gestures wanting to reduce my questions I am glad to be my friend, partner of the school, who leaked once in third year and suffered the shared warnings , who did not hesitate to step aside when we both liked the same girl; actually, if I think of it, would have to ask Rolo what cursed scheduled mechanism to arrive late I built a while now, surely he can tell me something more reasonable than the French silence of my psychologist who always sprayed all my questions with the classic catchphrase of what are you thinking, yes, Rolo will help resolve this delay which brings me to the most varied invent excuses to give my boss, it sounds very bombastic, very kind gray man with suit, but in reality, Ignacio is just a little bigger than me, has a voice that melts every woman in the office and a patience to test each of the lies I 've been telling him every morning; the point with Ignacio is that once I start to tell why I was late, finish telling what I did yesterday, if the postgraduate course was interesting, the title of the last film I saw online, and then it´s when he closes the door, calls Marina to bring us coffee and chatted as if we were friends, and I also learned if it was the club, if he dined at the Mexican restaurant so fond, if he passed by the house of his mother in Barracas; I never tell him when I go out with Valeria, when I sleep with her, I know it's stupid, but when inadvertently named her, he lowers his head to the notebook and the conversation soon returns to work, to customers, to the day's agenda, the famous awkward silence appears; I look at him and he doubles the bet with the same blinding eyes that has the actor whose name never I remember, just long enough, suspended while the light falls on the center of the sheet on his desk and light up, then I back to the subway I miss in the morning, to the station with its horrible pink tiles and I see me there on the platform, as all these last days , thinking in his mouth , the hand on my neck, our wheezing that begins to anticipate and that would - this time, yes, poor Rolo, sleepless, almost mute, unanswered.
Bradley Cooper
by N.Romford