El consuelo.
Apenas víctima, pues la nuca no expuso a la cuchilla. Fueron la súplica y las monedas. Y fue un compromiso en su nombre cerrado. Después, la mujer tuvo un ruego y en una sonrisa desconocida fue aceptado: podría ocultar los cabellos bajo la capucha.
Escrupulosa, la mujer operaría el ingenio y acompañaría la postrera conciencia de las cabezas en el consuelo imposible de una caricia.
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© Protegido.
The castaways.
He had read in the books that there were islands where castaways lived. That they were alone and that they ended up feeling alone. That they went mad, that their hope wavered. And that if they had glass jars with a stopper, and writing materials, they would throw one of those into the sea with a letter asking for help and offering an approximate location between sunrise and sunset.
So he wrote the message We'll find you. I send you warm hug, my friend., put it in a glass bottle and, after plugging it, ran to the river and threw it far into the stream.
And it was when he was no longer reading about castaways that, sitting on the bank of that river, he observed in the brief waves an unusual reflection that seemed to approach and recognized by it a glass bottle that floated towards where he was. And, reaching it, he got rid of the stopper to extract from the inside the same message that was entrusted to the waters, but written by a different hand.
