Recycling my lonely nights in Guatemala, right now that I'm about to go there I leave something to entertain.

I know, does not fill the obsession with technology ... but it exists.

I miss uShe was a sweet girl with black eyes and smooth hair to the shoulders, of the privileged relatives of employees of the boarding school where I did those years, that coexisted in the facilities with total freedom; Could be in the treasury, where Treasurer Elisa, after Nubia married Elvir and disappeared from the village map, could also be in the dining room, after Dona Gladis left, eat as an inmate, go to the court on Saturdays for The night and still accompany the group of parrots when they went to the town chaperoned by Professor Nancy.

Beautiful eyebrows, small stature, barely worn fifth grade, her feminine parts began as little oranges, but her eyes flirted with the firmament of those who prowled the fence.

I always met her when I went to wash dishes in the dining room, perhaps she purposely took some time to eat, calculating the time of my natural shyness for not meeting the group of inmates en masse. Instead of going to the workshop, I walked the platform waiting to see it, without looking up we could feel the blue and white uniform, with anniversary t-shirt, we were approaching while the nerves increased in inverse proportion with that distance, when we were at 3.215 meters us We looked at our eyes, and when we reached 1.837 of separation we smiled with grief and dread, then we said the same thing.


Then we continued moving in opposite directions, she to her aunt's prison, me in half an hour of hot water and Xedex.

Since the meeting 11, I had decided to write a little card, the text was written in love, and in the three and a half paragraphs I asked that we be engaged, I think I did not even know if, if I said yes.
We only knew two people; Daniel, with whom I had made a good friendship after accompanying him to sweep the school on my previous half scholarship, I also knew, although as one said, I would have preferred to deny myself the pleasure of knowing it for being so sacred. And it was under the influence of Daniel, that one day after folding the letter for the umpteenth time, I decided to hand it over. It was one night, there was a movie, a strange custom of the boarding school, in which the students took a Saturday to the dining room, and Mrs. Margarita took out some old tapes that spun in the projector, sometimes they were simple reports of an obsolete known documentary Like "Vision," beach scenes were censored with the index finger on the lens. For a change they exhibited La Cruz and El Puñal and El Progreso del Peregrino for another last time. However, students enjoyed it, with the exception of Oliva, who once protested, along with Purification, the scene was not repeated after the revival of the dark room called Manhatan.

My sweet little girl always sat back, where the cooks were, last-minute bequists, and we the daring outsiders who poured into the room with excuses reserved for another account. She sensed something went to take water to the kitchen, so I took advantage, it was dark, barely the light of the film, whose subject I honestly do not remember. I went after her, I went over when the light of the refrigerator illuminated her, I saw her thin lips glued to the green glass, while she looked at me with nervous eyes, I took courage and gave her the sweaty little card.

I wait your answer- I said, with the heroism that gave me his smile, but with the heart made a squirrel in the ice age.

I still do not remember if he said yes, he could have told me no, I do not remember either. For the rest of the year, we followed the same routine, finding ourselves on the same platform, with the same nerves, she with the guilt of having a letter kept in her secret box, I hoping to one day receive one in return.
The end of the year arrived, and the time was wasted even, the same feeling that the departure of the aged bus was bringing us, the consolation that the bequistas would stay for three weeks, and that we would spend our days in indolent rockets one night.

One evening, which already seemed like night, we saw, I can still see his face, cute, his eyes lively, his smile painful. Cabal I can feel his nervous breathing, after a single very short kiss, there was no tongue, we did not even close our eyes. It was not spectacular, just enough to remember the wet taste and not forget the context.

Twenty years later he wrote my name on Google...

When he sucks his straw into the coffee graniy, his lips look the same, like that night pressing the green glass ...

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