Tag: Berm

Categories
Short Stories

For Old Times’ Sake

It was somewhat late at night, I was organizing my room for the third time since I was a small kid. Looking for anything I might think was important. In one not-so-old box which had been relegated to the depths of a drawer, I found several receipts, movie theatre receipts to be specific. The ink was barely there but I could make out some details such as the date, they were from four years ago. Suddenly it hit me. “Ava,” I thought to myself. She was pretty much the only person I went to the movies with four years ago, those tickets probably were from the first movie we went to together. I took a picture of the receipts and sent them to Ava. She replied about 12 minutes later: “receipts?” I texted her: “AMC receipts from 4 years ago.” “No way,” she replied. “Wanna go out for a movie? For old times’ sake?” I texted. For all I knew she could be dating some dude named Kyle or I don’t know, serving in the army. “I’m free tomorrow night, I still live in the same house,” she replied. The chances of her being in a relationship with a guy named Kyle or whatever significantly decreased. My stomach felt weird just to think about seeing her again, perhaps it was the $1 burritos my friend Erick’s “burrito guy” sold me that day. I started wondering if she still felt something or if she just remembered me like I remember that Starbucks barista with blue hair who wanted to become a writer but got pregnant and had to move to Denver with the kid’s dad. I couldn’t figure out if Ava even saw me as a friend. Did I ask her out as a friend?
I couldn’t answer that question if my life depended on it. Nostalgia is a powerful thing. I went online and bought a couple of tickets to the latest movie starring The Rock and went to sleep. The next day, at about 6:00 PM I drove to her house, she lived a ten-minute drive away from mine. When we were seven our parents agreed to take each other’s kids to school depending on the day, that’s how we met. Ava’s dad and my mom worked together. I texted her that I was outside, then I saw her walking out of the front door. “Nice ride,” she said, probably joking since it was the same car I had in high school. Once we got to the theater, she ordered the usual: small popcorn, medium Mountain Dew and king-size Snickers. Ava always said that there was some poetry to ordering one thing from each size category, I didn’t quite see the poetry there. The only thing I could see was that we had overpaid for the Mountain Dew but underpaid for the popcorn. I simply got bottled water, I have never been a fan of popcorn, they are great, but I hate when they get stuck between my teeth. I’m probably traumatized because of that time I went to the movies with a girl and ended up with my braces filled with whatever that mildly-hard part of the popcorn is. We sat in the last row of the theatre, and as I was about to start the conversation, an astronomically loud Samsung ad started playing; it was about a brand new feature that no one would care about in a year or less —like most things these days. I tried talking three or four times more, but it was impossible. Going out on a “catching up” date to the movies and an action-packed film of all types is, speaking from experience, a terrible idea. I believe Ava could see my frustration, and softly said: “maybe an ice cream after the movie?” Once the movie was over, we went to get a milkshake and then got into the car — just as we did four years ago— to drink while she picked the music. Ava set the volume to a low-enough-to-talk-but-not-low-enough-that-there-would be-an-uncomfortable-silence-when-no-one-spoke level. I started with the basic “How’s everything been?” Ava started talking about her work and college, eventually, she mentioned Tom, her —in Ava’s words— “guy I’m seeing but we’re nothing yet.” I told her about Kate, my ex, and how she always bought Ava up every time we argued. Ava laughed. So far the day had a feeling of an old sitcom reunion, everyone is a little older, they’re doing the same thing but it didn’t quite feel the same. I remembered a physics class with professor Stevens, he talked about the fact that you can move around however much you’d like, but if you end up in the exact place your displacement would still be zero. Ava and I went to college out of state, we were both pretty much out of it, thousands in student debt, work, new friends, her parents got divorced, her dad had a new kid named Alana, I almost died in a car accident last fall, but there we were, in the same parking lot of the same AMC, listening to some old music but mostly new music from old artists, in the same car. All of that combined made me feel at home. Yes, a lot of good things happened in those four years, but a lot of bad ones too. Feeling as if none of that happened, as if all of that was merely a dream or a passing thought, was amazing. Man, what a drug the past is, it makes us weep, but we still crave it. Ava’s face was dimly lit by my old car’s light, her eyes glimmering by the glimpse of the past. I touched her face to register if all of it was real, and then we kissed. Many things have changed, but I was glad to know her kisses haven’t. I drove her back to her house. As Ava was getting out of the car, she got a call from Tom. She acted as if it was nothing. I smiled and started driving back to the place I used to call home, but now it’s just “my parent’s house.” A few hundred feet before finally getting to the house, I stopped to let my old neighbor Mr. Smith cross the street with his dog. I checked my phone and saw a notification from the airline that my flight had no changes and was scheduled for tomorrow morning.

© Gabriel Berm

Categories
Short Stories

Blackout


Today my calculus professor told us that we were probably having a long weekend since the campus was getting some sort of wiring improvement, which was great since I could finally spend some time with Emily. I called her, and she agreed to take a 10-hour bus from Denver to visit me. I would’ve gone to Denver but her roommate hates me for some reason, so my dorm was our only choice. My roommate Farid was always cool when Emily came over, he was going to have his annual Harry Potter marathon with some guys from his major anyway. Since Emily was going to take the night bus I had to clean the dorm as much as I could, weeks upon weeks of RedBull cans and Cup Noodles’ remains close to fossilization didn’t exactly go away with Lysol. Farid had this habit of saving stuff for later to recycle, the thing is he never actually went and recycled it. Farid left the dorm at around 7:00 PM. “Enjoy the weekend my dude,” he said, wearing a Slytherin hat. After an hour and a half of cleaning, the dorm looked somewhat presentable. The only problem I had was it didn’t exactly look like a nice place to have a date, it —still— looked like a boys dorm. So I called my friend Erin for help. She got there in about ten minutes. “So? What’s the emergency?” Erin asked. “Would you like to have a date here?” I said. “No,” she replied decisively. “That’s the problem,” I continued. “Is Emily coming?” She asked. I nodded. “What about not taking her here?” She said. “I have $25 left, those books professor Anderson asked for were ridiculously expensive,” I said. “Fine, I’ll be back, give me ten…fifteen,” Erin said as she left, almost jogging. It actually took her 20 minutes, but she got there. She was carrying a cardboard box filled with a barrage of different objects. Erin started taking out of the box a set of garden lights, two scented candles, a psychedelic-tablecloth-looking thing, and a Bluetooth speaker. Once she arranged the lights, set the candles, and the speaker on top of the tablecloth thing she said “I want all of this back by Monday.” “You’re awesome,” I told her. “I know,” she replied. I set the alarm to 6:00 AM to get ready and pick Emily up at around 7:00 AM and went to sleep. The next morning, I got woken up by Shaggy’s sweet voice singing Bombastic —that has been my alarm since I was 15. As I checked the messages I noticed a text from Emily. “The night bus was full, I’ll take the 8 am one, love you.” I was half relieved and half sad, on one hand, I could resume my sleeping but on the other, I was going to see her less. “Got it, text me when you’re close, love you too,” I texted her. Nine and a half hours later I went to pick her up. We kissed and we hugged, then drove back to campus. When we entered the dorm and I tried to turn on the lights, but, they didn’t turn on, in fact, nothing did. The sun hadn’t set yet, but unless it suddenly decided not to set for the first time in billions of years, we were out of luck. “Weird, didn’t they tell you something about the power going off on the weekend?” Emily asked. I quite frankly forgot that the dorm was indeed part of campus hence it would be subject to the wiring situation. “I’m sorry,” I replied. Emily laughed. “I can see you had quite something planned here,” she said, admiring Erin’s setup. We ordered some Uber Eats and ate it while sitting on the tablecloth with the candles lit and Vocalise Op. 34 playing in the background. The sun, not skipping another day, eventually and predictably flawless set. The room was now fully lit by nothing but the two candles Erin left. We talked about college and how different it was from high school, she told me about a guy who got arrested on campus for selling fake AirPods and I told her about a girl who got caught cheating using glow in the dark ink and UV-light-emitting pen. It was around nine or ten, the already almost finished candles were with every ten minutes burning even dimmer, Emily said that perhaps we could see the stars since all the lights were off. I took two red SOLO cups, a carton of cheap wine Farid and I had stashed just in case, and we got out. Emily was lighting the way with her phone’s flashlight. I took her to the roof of the computer science building, the tallest on campus. We sat there, admiring the starless sky, but from the distance, we could see the reason we couldn’t see the stars —the city— shining brighter than any trace of a star we could try to spot. I placed my arm around Emily, and she said “it’s beautiful up here” and I replied looking at her eyes reflecting the not-so-distant buildings “it really is.”

© Gabriel Berm

Categories
Short Stories

Close your eyes

I was finishing a can of cheap beer when the doorbell rang. I knew it was her, she always arrived ten minutes late to everything, after some time I simply learned to adjust my schedule ten minutes past the agreed-upon time. I opened the door. “Hi,” Miranda said while waving her hand nervously. We sat on the living room sofa. The lights were dimmed, the TV was off, it felt as if nothing bad could ever happen. “Are your parents home?” She asked. “Pediatricians summit,” I replied. “So?” I asked curtly. “So what?” She replied. “So why did you want to see me?” I asked dryly. “I can’t see my boyfriend now?” She replied. “Your boyfriend? I’m glad I still am, it doesn’t look like it,” I replied. “What the hell are you talking about?” She asked, annoyed. “Miranda, I know why you’re here, Josh heard it from principal Jenkins,” I said with a soft trembling voice. My eyes started to get wet, I could feel my eyelids doing their best to prevent a single tear from escaping. Miranda’s eyes looked exactly how I thought mine did. “Charlie,” she said hardly being able to speak. “I’m happy for you, you know that, you deserve that and more, you deserve the world Mimi, every single fucking inch of every good thing out there,” I said, now being able to feel some teardrops sliding down my cheeks. “I lov-“ she said but I interrupted her. “Don’t. Don’t say it, not now,” I said while placing my hand on her thigh. “I don’t even know if I’ll succeed, it’s still a one a million chance,” she said. “If there’s someone that will make it, that’s you, LA is going to love you,” I said with a smile. She jumped and hugged me, her tears started wetting my shirt. “So, who’s this big shot producer?” I said trying to delay the inevitable. “I’m not really sure, I mean, he’s legit and all, he said something about a teen’s show or something, he liked my voice after watching an Instagram post,” she replied wiping her tears, her eyes now visibly red. “Charlie, we could…I don’t know…try long-distance? Maybe?” Miranda said. “Mimi, I don’t want to distract you from your dreams, and let’s face it, you’ll have no problem finding a better-looking guy than me in LA,” I said. “But I want you, Charlie, I don’t know why you don’t even want to try,” she said, crying a little. “Because you deserve better, LA or not, you deserve a guy who drives you to Target to buy some weird kitchen contraption to make an Instagram recipe or goes to your house in the middle of the night because you feel lonely, or…or,” I said, then stopped to take a deep breath. “Or, tells you how beautiful you are every single fucking day because you’re and I just want to kiss your face and tell you how much I love you but I’m not that guy, I’m not,” I finished, crying. “Charlie….,” she said and kissed me. “I don’t want to see you leave,” I said. “I have to go,” she replied. “I know, I literally don’t want to see you leave, I’ll close my eyes and then you can go. Good luck Mimi, I’m proud of you,” I said as I slowly closed my eyes, seeing her face less and less with every fraction of an inch my eyelids got closer to each other. I waited for a second or two and said with a soft voice “I love you,” not knowing if she heard me or not.

© Gabriel Berm

Categories
poetry

Thunderstorms

Wondrous days

Of eternal hope

That leave us all alone

Frighting nights

Of calm abroad

Fill our hearts

With nothing but sorrow

But on that evening

Among thunderstorms in May

We saw that perhaps

There’s some glory in pain

© Gabriel Berm

Categories
poetry

Ticking

Line Art of Inka Williams by Gabriel Berm based on Amberly Valentine's photo.

When the stars
Seemed a little brighter
And clocks
were ticking faster
I felt sometimes
Your hand on top of mine
When mornings cried light
And your heart
Beat closer to mine
That’s when I knew
That your eyes
Time defied

© Gabriel Berm

Categories
Short Stories

Last Day In Old North | Short Story

After days of trying to fit it in our schedules, Anna and I could finally go on a proper date. We had a “date” last week if you count falling asleep on the couch re-watching Mad Men, a date. I know she’s excited about her new job, she’s already becoming a fine lawyer but I’ve been working for two years already and I always had time for her…us. Anna loved lobster so we settled on going to a lobster to-go place and then to my apartment. I arrived early at the restaurant and ordered for both of us. She got there about ten minutes later.
“So how was work?” I said and then started eating.
“Alright, we have this divorce case that is sucking the living joy out of all of us, the husband is a rich guy, the type that is not going to give away some money without giving a fight,” she said.
“Cool, I know you don’t like divorce cases but this seems interesting,” I replied.
“I hate them, I remember going with my mom to her divorce lawyer every week, it was horrible,” she said biting on her lobster roll.
“Do they have kids? The rich couple,” I asked.
“Josh, could we not talk about divorce anymore? And no, they don’t,” she replied seriously.
Anna looked tired and confused. I thought it might’ve been the whole divorce thing. She never understood why would people who are willing to get married stop wanting it. Sometimes I think she hasn’t broken up with me for precisely that reason, she wants to prove to herself right. Even if we’re not married, yet.
Once we were done eating we went for a smoothie and walked towards my apartment. I love Boston, it’s such a nice place, I’ve always liked it, that’s why I decided to stay there after college. I didn’t plan on going back to Utah with my parents, that’s for sure. We walked by the Old North Church, in my 5 years of living in Boston I never went there, it was always either packed with tourists or on service.
“Cool church,” I said hoping Anna would ask me to go inside.
“Not really,” she said drinking from her pineapple smoothie.
“Come on, I’ve never seen what’s all the fuzz about it,” I said.
“It’s an old church, it’s on the name,” she replied without looking at me.
I didn’t say anything, I could feel Anna was looking at me.
“Fine, let’s get in,” she replied with not a drop of enthusiasm in her voice.
We got in, it’s was white and wooden, just like anything old in America. I wasn’t impressed by it, I preferred the sun outside, to be honest.
“It’s OK, one less thing I have to see before I die, we can go now,” I joked.
Anna’s eyes were fixed on the organ.
“My parents got married here,” she said softly.
And that’s why she didn’t want to go there, I thought.
“Oh,” I gasped.
“I didn’t know, Anna, I’m sorry,” I continued.
“It’s fine,” she said dryly.
“I’ve been thinking, perhaps my parents were right, maybe it’s not meant to be,” she said, still not looking at me.
“Your parents thought it was the right choice to end it, it doesn’t mean they didn’t love each other,” I replied.
“I’m not talking about them, I’m talking about us,” she said.
I froze right there, I was unable to say a single word.
“Josh I don’t love you, or maybe I do, I don’t know, the one thing I do know is that I don’t want to be with you,” she said.
“Since when?” I said finally getting to form a sentence.
“Months,” she replied still looking at the organ but now a tear was sliding down her cheek.
We didn’t say anything else, she gave me what was left of her smoothie, like she always did, then looked one last time into my eyes, and left the church.

© Gabriel Berm

Categories
poetry

Unrequited

Unrequited love
There’s never enough
To bring our hearts and minds to sorrow
To make us long for what might’ve been
For making us cry for what never was
Hoping for the solitude to come to pass
Thinking that we belong in someone’s arms
For misery and hope
are both sides of the same coin
It’s only dark because dawn is close

© Gabriel Berm

Categories
Short Stories

Auld Lang Syne | Short Story

I picked up Marie at her dad’s house, as soon as I was taking out my phone to call her she came out of the front —and only— door. I greeted Mr. Steele from my car, he was wearing a bright pink mask that he bought on amazon thinking it was red. Marie got into the car, as usual, she sanitized her hands using the last drops of Germ-X left in the bottle, and we kissed. Who would’ve thought that in these modern times kissing was capable of such harm?

“How’s your dad?” I asked, diverging my thought from the constant reminder of death.

“Alright, I don’t think he’ll ever get used to living by himself,” she replied while texting her mom we were on our way.

We were throwing a “massive” three-people New Year celebration, Marie, Kate, and I. Kate, Marie’s mom had the tradition of cooking military-level amounts of food and inviting every living soul she knew in town. Completely the opposite of my parents, who don’t really believe in celebrating the New Year. The past two new year celebrations had been great with Marie, before that, I barely cared about our little blue dot completing a circle around the sun. We got to Marie’s home, I parked, and took out a pair of party-sized Doritos bags, and went inside. Kate sprayed us both with 90-degree alcohol. Kate was surprisingly cheery even though her dad died back in august because of Covid. Those last three words defined the year. Anything bad that happened was —is— almost certainly followed by: “because of Covid.” The clock marked 9:30 PM Kate took out leftover decorations from past years, she gave us party hats that said “2010,” and “2015,” respectively.

“I threw away the 2020 ones,” Kate said.

“I wouldn’t expect less, Mom,” Marie said.

Marie and I giggled. I looked at Marie and couldn’t believe this would be our third new year together. I always thought new year’s kisses were overrated but with two —almost three— years of experience I can certify that I was wrong.

“Why are you looking at me?” Marie said probably thinking she had a spider on her head.

“I can’t look at you? Look at yourself! You’re adorable,” I said while squeezing her cheeks.

It was 11:25 PM. Kate said we should pray and thank God for getting to the finish line and pray for those who didn’t. A few tears slid down her face after saying that. Marie hugged her, I hugged Marie, we were all hugging. Hugging: another beautiful thing 2020 managed to turn into an almost biological weapon.

It was 11:45 PM. Marie and I were playing Plants vs Zombies on my phone, Kate was looking for “New year music” on YouTube. A Geico ad blasted through a massive sound system Marie’s dad didn’t manage to get after the divorce. New year’s always make me nervous, they didn’t use to since I went to sleep at 10 PM back when I spent the holiday with my parents, but now, being awake is nerve-wracking. There’s this feeling that everything will be fine and big things are going to change, the amount of weight we put on the new year is abysmal. I’m just thankful for what I have, especially Marie. It was 11:59 PM. Auld lang syne started playing, I grabbed Marie’s hand. The fireworks started to sound in the distance.

It was Midnight. I kissed Marie, Marie hugged Kate. Kate forgot about Covid protocols and hugged me as well. I could feel my shirt getting wet from her tears. It was a rough year for virtually everybody. I kissed Marie again, and we started dancing to the rhythm of Auld Lang Syne, hoping the rest of the year will be as good as the first three minutes.

© Gabriel Berm

Author’s Note:

I highly recommend this version of Auld Lang Syne, they’re great.

Categories
Short Stories

Mamihlapinatapai

Illustration of Adriana Casas by Gabriel Berm

Walking toward a hot dog joint nearby campus, I saw Andrea running toward the bus stop. The bus was already leaving, and she knew it. Once, the bus left without her, I walked fast towards her. 

“Andrea?” I said.

“Craig! It’s been ages! How are you?” She said, surprised.

“Right now, probably better than you,” I joked.

She laughed a bit. She was holding three heavy-looking biology textbooks, and her glasses were barely touching the tip of her nose.

“This is the second time this week. Now I have to wait 45 minutes to an hour for the next one,” Andrea said rather annoyed.

“I’ll keep you company if you want,” I said, begging every deity for her to say yes.

“You don’t have to,” she said, embarrassed.

I was starving, but something inside me was telling me to stay. In all fairness, it might’ve been the three coffees I had in the morning.

We sat on the bus stop’s bench.

“How’s been everything? How’s Michael?” I asked.

“Alright, I guess…and we broke up a few weeks ago,” She replied with a sudden sense of disappointment filling her face.

“I’m sorry,” I said, feeling bad for the fact that I was sort of happy because of that.

“Yeah, It sucks people still can’t break up before they cheat,” Andrea said now with a lower voice.

“I know, right? What’s the need for being in a relationship if you’re gonna cheat anyway?” I said, thinking about my ex-girlfriend Claire.

“It’s going to sound like a cliché, but I don’t know if I want to be in a relationship again,” she said without looking at me.

I was starring at her face, so beautiful. I couldn’t help but think who in their right mind would cheat on her. She was not just extraordinarily beautiful, but smart, perhaps the smartest person I knew.

“We all say that,” I replied.

Her eyes were slightly red, and a couple of tears were sliding down her cheeks. I dried them with my thumb wrapped around the end of my hoodie’s sleeve. She looked at me. I slowly took my hand away from her face. 

“Perhaps it would’ve been different if we…” She said without finishing.

“Perhaps,” I said.

My eyes were lost in hers and hers in mine. I moved my body closer toward hers. She smiled. Andrea started moving her hands toward my chest and leveled my hoodie strings.

“You’ve always worn them unevenly,” she said and smiled.

She got closer to me. Our heads were inches apart. Then a hideous rumbling noise and the smell of diesel became part of the scene. Andrea did the longest blink ever. The bus’ door opened with a creaking sound. We stood up. I helped her pick up her books and handed them to her, our hands touched for a second. She looked at me, and I looked at her, we stood there for what felt like an hour. Our heads were as close as they have ever been, then we hugged. She got on the bus, and as the bus’s awful sounds were less and less present, I kept thinking what would’ve happened if we kissed.

Author’s Note:

According to Wikipedia, Mamihlapinatapai is a word derived from the Yaghan language from Tierra del Fuego. The word is listed by The Guinness Book of World Records as the “most succinct word.” The general understanding of the word is “A look that without words is shared by two people who want to initiate something, but neither start” or “looking at each other hoping that either will offer to do something which both parties desire but are unwilling to do.”

© Gabriel Berm

Categories
Short Stories Spanish (Español) Uncategorized

Tiempos Modernos | Cuento Corto

Sofía me abrió la puerta del vestíbulo de su edificio, me acerqué a darle un beso en los labios pero ella lo desvió a su mejilla. Deja la puerta entre abierta y puedo jurar que escucho el golpeteo de esta por el particularmente fuerte viento de esa tarde. Nos subimos al elevador sin decir una palabra, el recorrido se me hace infinito. Sofía se queda viendo lo que parece ser un insecto muerto dentro de una lámpara en el techo. Me le quedo viendo con la esperanza de que hagamos contacto visual pero esto nunca sucede. Finalmente se abren las puertas y caminamos a su departamento. Mientras ella saca la llave de su bolsillo escucho el llanto de un bebé en el departamento de al lado. Los vecinos tuvieron un bebé, las últimas noches han sido de pesadilla, me dijo dirigiéndome la palabra por primera vez en el día. Entramos y pone la llave sobre la mesa. Siéntate por allá, lo dijo como si yo nunca hubiera estado por ahí un centenar de veces en el pasado. Me siento en el sofá donde estaba acostado su perro salchicha (mismo que se fue en el instante siguiente en que me senté) y me quedo esperando a que ella me diga algo. Se amarra el pelo con una cola y se sienta a mi lado, a unos escasos 40 centímetros. Noto un libro sobre una pequeña mesa y alcanzo a leer “Romeo y Julieta,” me extraña porque Sofía odiaba cualquier tipo de obra romántica.
—Es patético —me dice con un aire de intelectualidad.
—¿El libro?
—Sí. Se matan porque uno no podía vivir sin el otro, y que supuestamente estaban destinados a estar juntos y que nadie los separaría. Yo no me mataría porque el otro tipo se mata. Todos dicen que quieren una historia como la de Romeo y Julieta pero nadie analiza que él era un indeciso que se enamoraba rápido de todas. Él le dice “Te juro por la luna” y ella le dice que no jure en lo absoluto. Pero que si tiene que jurar, que jure por su maravilloso ser, que es el dios que ella adora como un ídolo, y luego le creerá. ¿Qué clase de persona enferma piensa así?
—No sé que me estás tratando de decir, Sofía. En todo caso, Shakespeare ni siquiera me parece la gran cosa —le respondo con la intención de hablar de lo que ella tan desesperadamente necesitaba.
—Respóndeme —me dice cortantemente.
—Todo me parece bien excepto la parte del ídolo. ¿Feliz?
—¡No! Todo está mal. ¿No entiendes? —responde, a nada de ponerse a llorar.
—¡Maldita sea! ¿Ahora qué? No te entiendo nada. Un día quieres que sea como Romeo y otros como quién sabe cuál personaje de algún libro de hace siglos. Es que no te entiendo de verdad. Me llamas acá para hablar, yo vengo que me cago del miedo y de la incertidumbre, no pude ni almorzar porque se me fue el apetito y ahora me pones a analizar un texto trillado que pone falsas expectativas en las mentes de los adolescentes que todavía no saben que carajos es el amor.

Sofía comienza a llorar y no sé que decir o hacer. Pasan unos minutos y su mirada se pierde en las luces de Boston. A ella le encantaba ver por la ventana los domingos cómo llegaban personas a la Trinity Church y escuchar desde lejos al coro. Decido servirnos a ambos una copa de vino, voy al refrigerador y solo veo media sandía, una caja de mantequilla y tres rebanadas de queso amarillo.
—¿Hay algo de tomar? —le pregunto.
—Tengo un licor vencido en la gaveta de abajo, no sabe tan mal —me responde con un tono de voz muy bajo.
Sirvo el licor en una copa y el mío en un vaso porque la otra copa estaba quebrada. Se lo doy y sin verme a los ojos comienza a tomar, igual con la mirada firme en la cruz sobre la iglesia.

—Yo sé lo de ella — me dijo con la voz entrecortada.
—Y yo sé lo de él también —le respondo con lo que parece ser dolor.
—¿Y por qué seguimos entonces? ¿Amor?
—Amor se llama el juego en el que un par de ciegos juegan a hacerse daño.
—No cites a Sabina y respóndeme algo tú —me dijo sonriendo un poco.
—Yo no sé por qué seguimos en esto, lo único que sé es que no quiero saber cómo va a ser el después.
Sofía me vuelve a ver y asienta levemente con la cabeza. Nos quedamos viendo el paisaje por unos minutos, su mirada en los edificios y en alguno que otro transeúnte que vagaba por las calles, la mía en la luna llena de esa noche que me rogaba que jurara amor eterno por ella.

© Gabriel Berm