Monkey wakes up.
The bright light from the sun has found its way around the curtain.
It’s Sunday, no work. Thank the Monkey Lord – She thinks.
She gets out of bed, brushes her teeth and takes a long hot shower.
She gets out of the bathroom, dripping wet; takes a look at her body in the mirror.
She has lost some weight.
She checks her cell phone. No messages.
It’s been almost two weeks.
She gets dressed: Jeans, an old t-shit, socks, tennis shoes, no makeup; the usual (the new usual).
She decides to go out for breakfast;
buy herself one of those fancy four-dollar coffees, maybe, even a muffin.
She imagines herself alone in the coffee-shop; feels a pain on her chest. Not a heart attack, don’t worry, it’s just so-called-love gone really wrong.
You are OK, Monkey, he was a douche – She tells herself.
She decides to go ahead with the plan. It’s just breakfast; coffee and, probably, a muffin, or a brownie.
She searches her room for a book; a book is ideal for not looking lonely.
After Dark by Haruki Murakami. Perfect.
Come Murakami, let’s roll.
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Comentarios de la entrada (Atom)
Cuando andábamos
Mientas andábamos pensé que ambos mirábamos el cielo, buscando arcoíris, viendo las nubes con forma de cachorros. Pero tú observabas mis p...
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Quiero tu vida de sexo, las mujeres que se acuestan contigo. Quiero salir, charlar con una y besarla por horas. Quiero saber cómo ser tú ...
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I can bake, sure, I can bake. I can do other things as well… and I don’t snore. So? What do say?
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Am am am am!!! Grrrr grrr grrr grrr!!! Agrrm agrrm agrrm!!! Mmm mmm mmm!!! Guau guau guau!!! hgrr hgrrr auuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu!!!!!!!!!!!
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