One year later"Do you mean that now you write real novels? "As asked one of the men in the circle of girls.I nodded, pushing my hair away to my shoulders." Some people like to live love, I prefer to write about it.His face changed from curiosity to admiration in a snap of fingers. I had trained that answer in front of the mirror several times before that one. First because my family didn't seem to understand what my profession required of me, and then because it was the easiest answer to give in an interview. Short, thick, and at the same time what they would like to hear. My agent would be proud."A toast to success! "Said the blonde next to me, raising the full cup."Do not mix alcohol with medicines," advised the man next to him, pulling the cup to his own lips.The blonde stretched out to take the cup back, but the man leaned back and ran away from his reach. When she got tired, she sat on the chair and blew the strands of hair that fell on her face. A single reddish strand sho
In the summer, a television program decided to sponsor meetings between strangers, offering vacancies for women to apply in search of finding the love of their lives.The registrations took place through the site, anonymously and safely, until, if your file was interesting enough to draw attention, the production of the program would get in touch and make a dinner on its own. Generally, in closed places and with the entire technical team on the backs of couples, where mostly they passed from men and women between the ages of twenty and thirty.No one persuaded me to try the chance to find true love in a reality show. Not even Kendall, whose obsession with finding me a boyfriend was already going beyond the limits. She said that being stuck at home, just writing and crying, would not help me find the love that I said so much existed in my stories. But she ignored it when I said I wrote so I wouldn't have to look for someone for real. My friend didn't understand that literary disappoint
A few years later“Every night, while I was just a girl, my grandmother used to sit next to me in bed reciting for me the same story of the princess of the seas that I'm about to tell...”"Oh, no, mom," grumbled the little girl with red and thick hair, with the blanket partially covering her small body at that moment. "I don't want to hear stories of princesses again. And Ariel's story isn't even that cool."Laughing, his twin brother agreed:"It's true, Mom. The stories are repeated every night. In addition, it is practically impossible for a girl to give up her legs for a boy," he yawned and supported a hand below his chin, as if his argument did not leave gaps for refutation. "Tell me more about how you and Dad met."I couldn't help but smile. My story with Zachary had been full of ups and downs, tragedies and happiness, but he had also given me an invaluable gift. The love of two children who were not in our plans, but became the axis of our worlds.At that time, we had been togeth
People die all the time, I should have gotten used to it.On the news you are always seeing the news of a murder, run over, kidnapping or suicide. People die, it's simple and easy to understand. It turns out that when you are on the other side, when you are the person who had your heart compressed by the pain of the loss of those you loved, none of the nonsense that religious say about death makes sense. Why did this happen? You wonder. Why is he and not me?We are born, we grow up and we die. That's the natural order of things. But there is also a second fact that I faithfully believe in. We can always change the way things end. We can always find a solution to a serious problem, turning it into nothing more than a slight headache. Skeptics call this fact Optimism, scientists call it Chaos Theory and I call it luck.Luck is not quite as people think. It is not about carrying rabbit-shaped amulets or eating cookies with moralistic messages inside. True luck is a feeling very similar t
3 Months Before I tried to fix my long and fake rabbit ears for the third time on top of my head. But, no matter how great my effort was, the accessory insisted on slipping forward, blocking my vision from time to time with a black silk bow that shaved lightly on the tip of my heavy eyelashes by the mascara. Sighing exasperated, I moved the thin fabric away from my face with a strong peteleco, crossed my arms on top of the “Right... “ Kendall pondered, spinning a cherry between his teeth. “You were really right when you said it would be much easier if we had planned to renew the bet every first day of the month. “Shrugging, I stole one of the cherries inside the Condiment Container and sucked my fingers loudly. “I warned you. “Kendall rolled her eyes and snorted. “How much do you bet on the night? ““Five hundred. ““No chance. ““Five hundred or nothing “ I said with an open smile. Kendall hit the lid of the container with the fruits at the same time that I stretched out my hand
“Mila!” shouted a voice on the second floor. I moaned softly. “The little boss is calling...” Kendall said maliciously. “It doesn't start...” I pointed an accusing finger towards him. I crossed the area near the track with small round tables and chairs that had at its end the shape of a shell. I passed under the iron structure attached to the ceiling, taking care not to bump into the tables that were almost stealthy in the darkest place, before tripping up the extensive metal staircase with colored leds on its steps. The entire nightclub was customized with iron structures that resembled gears. I knew they were far from being real gears, especially in relation to their weight being considerably very light. The sign with a blank space with "Memento Viveri" written in firm handwriting hanging on the wall shone against my eyes when I reached the second floor. Kim Campbell was the owner of the nightclub with a Latin name and considered one of the most visited in Manhattan. Despite b
Truth be told: If it were in a real competition, I would win with one hundred percent of the votes for the first place of a real bitch. But despite the very well accepted title, I did not fit the standards imposed by the sexist society whose air I was forced to share for years of my life. The fact was that I had never been involved with married men, or that at least had the moral to indicate a serious relationship with women who differed from the rich and depressed bitches that irritated me. My lust differentiated at this point. I would never forgive myself for being the cause of the destruction of a family, even if it cost me a wonderful night with an experienced man. Even if the idea of getting stuck in a lasting relationship burned my skin and irritated my free ego, I put myself in the shoes of every woman who waited for her husband at home, not knowing that he frequented places similar to what I was used to finding my best fucks. Children who were waiting for their parents to tel
The nightclub did not have a defined repertoire, the songs were always the ones that most attracted people to the track, and that was all. However, that night we were with a different DJ and she seemed determined to remix all the best known songs regardless of the genre. I realized this when I heard Kurt Cobain's voice sounding faster than usual in an almost robotic version of Smells like a Teen Spirit. I didn't contain my fan instinct and started singing the song while dancing and spinning my vodka bottle over my fingers. While the music followed its low and engaging tone and then started again with the strongest beat, I turned the bottle in my hands with an agility that seemed impossible to have looking from a distance. I ended up remembering my first days of work, when I was still in training and literally cut all my fingers trying to find a position between them that would support the bottle and allow me to rotate it and throw it into the air as many times as necessary. Everythin