domingo, 22 de septiembre de 2013

Mismatch in the cold

The clock tower was about to strike twelve . The man turned his head each time to check the time, was walking through the square nervous in the coldest morning I remembered a long time. Some people passed him, indifferent to the turmoil he felt , wrapped in their coats trying to dodge the fierce blizzard that day in January mesetaria; ran looking for some shelter as the man trampled the snow with their rides nervous about the statue that occupied the center of the square.
The twelve bells bounced off the gray atmosphere. She did not appear. The sky was still very dark and seemed to project a veil over the human heart , in the meantime, hit the ground with their feet to warm them . He thought of her, his image always stuck in your brain, in the silence of the night or in the bustle of the streets, did not care. She was always there.
The beating of his heart were redoubled , a mad rush of blood ran through his veins like fire on a wildfire. I felt burned their temples and leaned against the pedestal of the monument because he feared faint. A woman crossing the square walking towards him, he wore a fur coat and hat of the same material that windy ride , feisty, flirtatious ... she was, she had no doubt . The woman walked past without looking at Sergio . He was wrong , she was not as he had thought to see it from afar , with his face covered by the coat collar . He felt heavy and cold slab on his chest , further advance of another cold and heavy soon entirely cover him and that he would no longer feel about themselves . He had already made the decision because she knew that she would always another that was united by marriage, by appearances , a key element in social relations , especially in a provincial town .I knew they would never unite their lives , even their bodies , and I knew that quote was crazy stupid. The promise he had started the previous evening in a moment of despair was not a sign of love if not of concern , it could be feared that the man threw the river from the bridge as he swore he would do if he did not agree to meet .But ... what if it were not so ? What if she came to the end of the ready to run away with him ? What if he loved him ?However, as time was separated from the twelve and she still did not appear , which had guessed what had always known in the back of your being , that is, that the object of his passion would not live to his side ever became a reality , inexorable as a sentence . Time's up , no more illusions That left the bridge and below the river with deep water, frost , cozy . They would calm for all their pain and anxiety.But still expect a little more. I could have missed something , perhaps had been delayed for some compelling reason , why not finally prevent outside your appointment and they could see her come running to throw herself into his arms , because what could be more important than the passion that united ?The bell struck one in the clock tower . A male figure shuffled through the snow to leave the square down a side street that led to the bridge across the river.Ten minutes later a woman came to the plaza looking around, with rapid head movements , almost like a bird. He seemed to find someone . She crossed the square thinking tragedies in flames go out. I understood that something was wrong because of the delay . If so could never forgive . The winter wind howling around her with reproach and the woman thought of the man . I felt that the last meeting he had with him had happened a thousand years ago .Actually I had met the previous month and in that space of time had become the center of gravity on which his life revolved . He began to feel his own transformation within a few days to meet , at a party held at the home of a mutual friend , by whom they were presented . He soon realized that the man's interest in her was very special , saw this situation with eyes that were not body , because she had appeared a deep impression . I knew there were casualties encounters at the entrance of the theater when she arrived with her ​​husband , or that all significant parties to whom came he was, and that non of relevant local characters . The disdain he had felt at first toward the man had become soon after, without knowing how, in a unremitting passion , a sense of emptiness and fullness to a time that made ​​him dream about him in each and every one of those Frosty nights steppe city . I was afraid even that could have spoken his name in a dream , the suspicion arose out of some looks from her husband who seemed to hide a background bitter, murky water where there was glass bowl .She however , basically did not care what her husband might think because, when the man had declared his love and desire felt the bonds of their marriage had irretrievably broken and now I could not remember what link Real had joined the man who slept with her.He received the cold whip in the face and recalled the ultimatum he had pronounced the day after begging antrior , and curse him : If she did not leave him kill himself .Think you 'd be dead now anywhere was something that he suffered as a thousand deaths ; feeling agony not let him think out of the square and headed down the street almost groping for his eyes were thick with tears , towards the bridge on the frozen river . If you still could find , stop ...The man's words echoed endlessly in his head as he walked the hieroglyph of streets leading to the river, without looking too much about where I was going , the foot was led by force of habit, reached the bridge feeling that escaped her throat heart up by fear and hope. Soon he saw that there was no one except her and her terror, that seemed to have taken shape . I knew the bridge was his favorite place and that this confession was his place to die. Tears streamed down her face like tiny glaciers while searching for some sign , some vestige however little , to let him think he was alive , but all that went with it was desperation, who along with his frozen tears descended to join the turbulent flow.Someone heard a scream torn woman who stopped short , someone who did not pay more attention and kept going while the other side of town, on a filthy tavern , the man hurried his umpteenth cup and , with the advice of wine trying to justify the fact that still continue in this world with the idea that not deserve to die by a woman who had broken his promise. Within it, in the depths of his conscience, offered by his cowardice .

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