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Fiction

Paranoid City

By Mildred Hernández
Translated from Spanish by Anne McLean
Mildred Hernández reveals the violence seething just under the surface of a couple’s home and marriage.

“Did you hear that noise?” the woman whispered, leaning on one elbow in bed, and opening her eyes wide.

“What noise?” her husband asked sleepily.

“It sounds like it’s coming from the yard. There’s someone on the roof, or in the kitchen,” she said fearfully.

“Get up. Go check on the kids, while I get my pistol,” he ordered in a hushed voice and woke up entirely.

While the woman quickly tiptoed to the children’s room the man got the pistol out of the closet, checked to make sure it was loaded and ready to fire. He put on his slippers, and then heard more clearly: there was someone in the back part of the house, probably in the kitchen. Neither of them had turned on a light and both moved with utmost silence. From the door of their bedroom the husband signaled to his wife to stay hidden. He waited and then, when he thought the moment was right, crept softly toward the kitchen, where he made out a man with his back to him about four meters away, opening drawers and stuffing whatever he found into a sack. The husband thought in a flash that if he spoke the man might attack him, so without another thought, he took aim and shot him twice in the back. The woman heard only two sharp blasts, like two firecrackers somewhere in the darkness, and ran to find her husband.

“What happened?” she said, and heard her own voice on the edge of tears. “Are you all right?”

“Yes. Don’t worry, but I think I killed this scumbag,” the man said, walking over to the body lying on the floor and giving him a kick.

“So what should we do? Call the police?”

“Are you crazy? You want me to go to prison for this piece of garbage? Get dressed and we’ll go dump him at Las Guacamayas.”

The woman stared at her husband and, stifling a sigh, went to their room and pulled on an old pair of jeans, a sweatshirt, and the running shoes she used for aerobics. Her mind was numb. Her husband, after making sure that none of the servants or any of the neighbors had woken up, came into the room and got dressed.

“We’re going to wrap him in garbage bags and then put him in the car,” he said to his wife who stared at him like an automaton.

“Right,” she said, and felt a slight shiver.

Back in the kitchen, and without making any noise, the man lifted the body up off the floor, while his wife walked ahead of him, opening doors, until they finally reached the garage. She opened the trunk of the BMW and heard, and felt, the lifeless body thump onto the mat.

“Do you want me to go with you?” she asked, pleading inside that the answer would be no.

“There’s no way I’m going on my own. Open the gate and after I pull out, lock it and get in,” the man said.

The woman obeyed. She was impelled by a voice that wasn’t hers and wouldn’t allow her to see beyond her actions. After locking the gate, she put the keys in the front pocket of her jeans and saw that all was calm on the street. She got into the car carefully and quickly and her husband drove down to the corner. Two streets away he turned on the headlights. Neither of them said a word until they got to the edge of the ravine.

“Are you sure there’s no one around?”

“Don’t worry, not even flies hang around out here.”

“Did you take a good look? Are there any other cars?”

“No, look, there’s nothing, nobody, I told you.”

“I’m just really nervous.”

“Me too, but we have to do this. We have no choice.”

“It’s all your fault. If you weren’t so . . .”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. If I weren’t so violent, perhaps now, at this very moment, somebody would be doing this to us, or to the kids.”

“You’re right, sorry. But I’m still really nervous. I’m on the verge of hysteria.” The woman wrung her cold, clammy hands and smoothed her hair with a mechanical gesture.

“What time is it?” he asked.

“Ten past two. I’m cold. My teeth are chattering.”

“Try to calm down,” said the man. “You’re gonna make me more nervous.”

“What if someone finds out?”

“Nobody, you hear me, nobody heard or saw anything,” the man’s voice sounded threatening. “Now please be quiet.”

“I don’t remember if I locked the door. What if the kids wake up and start to cry?”

“Will you shut up! I told you, nothing’s going to happen.”

The woman looked straight at him and saw the furious expression that always left her petrified. She looked out the car window instead and watched carefully to see what was happening around them. Everything was silent.

“We’re here,” said the man, his voice sounding hollow to him. He looked at the woman out of the corner of his eye and, giving her a gentle pat on the shoulder, as if to see if she’d react, ordered: “Out we get.”

The night was dark and not a sound could be heard. The moon wasn’t up and the place seemed deserted. The man parked the car between a couple of bushes that almost completely covered it. They only barely managed to make each other out by the excessive shininess of their eyes. Their voices became quiet whispers, like the tiny, almost imperceptible, rustling of leaves.

“Don’t jangle the keys,” the woman begged.

“Shut up,” said the man.

They tiptoed around the car to the trunk and, before deciding to open it, looked around in all directions. Nothing. They felt as if time had stopped and they were living through eternity.

“There’s no one around,” she murmured.

“No one,” he repeated between clenched teeth.

“Open it then.”

He opened the trunk and they both looked inside.

“Grab his feet. I’ll hold him by the shoulders. We’ll carry him a few steps and leave him in the bushes over there,” he said.

“No,” she said. “They’ll find him there straight away. We better take him down into the ravine. To the bottom.”

“We’re leaving him here, I’m telling you.” The man was exasperated.

“If we’re going to start this,” she murmured decidedly, “let’s finish it properly. If we don’t take him down the ravine, I’m leaving right now.”

“Don’t be an idiot. Calm down or I’ll leave you with him.” The man looked at her with outrageous hatred.

The woman closed her mouth. She knew her husband well enough to be able to tell when he meant something seriously.

“Have you got him?” he asked.

“Yeah.”

“Ready?”

“Yes I said.”

“OK. One, two, three.”

They both picked up the bundle and could tell that it was going to be a heavy load.

“It’s really heavy,” she said in a faltering groan.

“Get a good grip or we’ll drop him.”

“You go first,” said the woman. And then added fearfully: “What if there’s a snake?”

“Oh, will you shut the hell up and get a move on,” said the man. He turned around so he was facing the bushes. The ravine was deep and it took them about twenty minutes to get to the bottom of it. They walked slowly, trying not to trip over any stones. Each of them could hear nothing but the other’s agitated breathing. When they got to the bottom they dropped the bundle, brushed off their clothes, and looked at each other with relief. They were sure no one had seen them. He took her by the hand and they hurried up the slope until they got back to the bushes. The car was right where they’d left it. Then they noticed they’d left the trunk open. They were walking one behind the other and, when the man went to close the trunk, he pulled his wife back. Both stood still, as if hypnotized. Inside was another lifeless body, bigger and bulkier than the one they’d left at the bottom of the ravine. Devastated, they stared at each other, neither uttering a single word. Who had put it there? Had they been seen? The woman began to sob with a dry, tearless moan.

“Shut up and grab the feet,” ordered the man, forgetting to keep his voice down. His tone was an inescapable imperative.

“One, two, three, up,” he said as he lifted the body, taking it out of the car with the help of his wife and throwing it to one side. He closed the trunk; they picked up the body again and, without another word, began down the same path. This time they didn’t look as carefully as the first and got to the bottom faster. They dropped the second body a few meters from the first. They looked around and, seeing nothing out of the ordinary, went back up almost at a run. They were careful not to leave footprints. They arrived back up by the bushes and took a last look around.

They checked and saw that everything was in order. They got in the car. The man started the car, backed up, and quickly drove away. He accelerated even more until the ravine became just a speck back in the distance.

They didn’t pass any other cars on the city streets. Before they reached their house, rain began to fall in a torrential downpour and both felt it was like a cleansing salvation. They turned the last corner and the woman got out in front of their house to open the gate. They went in and all was calm. In the morning they’d burn their clothes, wash the car, and get a bit more sleep.

They locked all the doors and in their room the woman undressed and put on her nightie. She took two tranquilizers. He appeared with an enormous glass of rum.

“Oh great,” the man said as he calmly undressed sitting on the bed. “I didn’t notice I’d put on my favorite shirt.”

“Don’t worry,” said the woman, already falling asleep, “tomorrow I’ll buy you a new one.”

“Paranoica City” © Mildred Hernández. By arrangement with the author. Translation © 2014 by Anne McLean. All rights reserved.

English Spanish (Original)

“Did you hear that noise?” the woman whispered, leaning on one elbow in bed, and opening her eyes wide.

“What noise?” her husband asked sleepily.

“It sounds like it’s coming from the yard. There’s someone on the roof, or in the kitchen,” she said fearfully.

“Get up. Go check on the kids, while I get my pistol,” he ordered in a hushed voice and woke up entirely.

While the woman quickly tiptoed to the children’s room the man got the pistol out of the closet, checked to make sure it was loaded and ready to fire. He put on his slippers, and then heard more clearly: there was someone in the back part of the house, probably in the kitchen. Neither of them had turned on a light and both moved with utmost silence. From the door of their bedroom the husband signaled to his wife to stay hidden. He waited and then, when he thought the moment was right, crept softly toward the kitchen, where he made out a man with his back to him about four meters away, opening drawers and stuffing whatever he found into a sack. The husband thought in a flash that if he spoke the man might attack him, so without another thought, he took aim and shot him twice in the back. The woman heard only two sharp blasts, like two firecrackers somewhere in the darkness, and ran to find her husband.

“What happened?” she said, and heard her own voice on the edge of tears. “Are you all right?”

“Yes. Don’t worry, but I think I killed this scumbag,” the man said, walking over to the body lying on the floor and giving him a kick.

“So what should we do? Call the police?”

“Are you crazy? You want me to go to prison for this piece of garbage? Get dressed and we’ll go dump him at Las Guacamayas.”

The woman stared at her husband and, stifling a sigh, went to their room and pulled on an old pair of jeans, a sweatshirt, and the running shoes she used for aerobics. Her mind was numb. Her husband, after making sure that none of the servants or any of the neighbors had woken up, came into the room and got dressed.

“We’re going to wrap him in garbage bags and then put him in the car,” he said to his wife who stared at him like an automaton.

“Right,” she said, and felt a slight shiver.

Back in the kitchen, and without making any noise, the man lifted the body up off the floor, while his wife walked ahead of him, opening doors, until they finally reached the garage. She opened the trunk of the BMW and heard, and felt, the lifeless body thump onto the mat.

“Do you want me to go with you?” she asked, pleading inside that the answer would be no.

“There’s no way I’m going on my own. Open the gate and after I pull out, lock it and get in,” the man said.

The woman obeyed. She was impelled by a voice that wasn’t hers and wouldn’t allow her to see beyond her actions. After locking the gate, she put the keys in the front pocket of her jeans and saw that all was calm on the street. She got into the car carefully and quickly and her husband drove down to the corner. Two streets away he turned on the headlights. Neither of them said a word until they got to the edge of the ravine.

“Are you sure there’s no one around?”

“Don’t worry, not even flies hang around out here.”

“Did you take a good look? Are there any other cars?”

“No, look, there’s nothing, nobody, I told you.”

“I’m just really nervous.”

“Me too, but we have to do this. We have no choice.”

“It’s all your fault. If you weren’t so . . .”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. If I weren’t so violent, perhaps now, at this very moment, somebody would be doing this to us, or to the kids.”

“You’re right, sorry. But I’m still really nervous. I’m on the verge of hysteria.” The woman wrung her cold, clammy hands and smoothed her hair with a mechanical gesture.

“What time is it?” he asked.

“Ten past two. I’m cold. My teeth are chattering.”

“Try to calm down,” said the man. “You’re gonna make me more nervous.”

“What if someone finds out?”

“Nobody, you hear me, nobody heard or saw anything,” the man’s voice sounded threatening. “Now please be quiet.”

“I don’t remember if I locked the door. What if the kids wake up and start to cry?”

“Will you shut up! I told you, nothing’s going to happen.”

The woman looked straight at him and saw the furious expression that always left her petrified. She looked out the car window instead and watched carefully to see what was happening around them. Everything was silent.

“We’re here,” said the man, his voice sounding hollow to him. He looked at the woman out of the corner of his eye and, giving her a gentle pat on the shoulder, as if to see if she’d react, ordered: “Out we get.”

The night was dark and not a sound could be heard. The moon wasn’t up and the place seemed deserted. The man parked the car between a couple of bushes that almost completely covered it. They only barely managed to make each other out by the excessive shininess of their eyes. Their voices became quiet whispers, like the tiny, almost imperceptible, rustling of leaves.

“Don’t jangle the keys,” the woman begged.

“Shut up,” said the man.

They tiptoed around the car to the trunk and, before deciding to open it, looked around in all directions. Nothing. They felt as if time had stopped and they were living through eternity.

“There’s no one around,” she murmured.

“No one,” he repeated between clenched teeth.

“Open it then.”

He opened the trunk and they both looked inside.

“Grab his feet. I’ll hold him by the shoulders. We’ll carry him a few steps and leave him in the bushes over there,” he said.

“No,” she said. “They’ll find him there straight away. We better take him down into the ravine. To the bottom.”

“We’re leaving him here, I’m telling you.” The man was exasperated.

“If we’re going to start this,” she murmured decidedly, “let’s finish it properly. If we don’t take him down the ravine, I’m leaving right now.”

“Don’t be an idiot. Calm down or I’ll leave you with him.” The man looked at her with outrageous hatred.

The woman closed her mouth. She knew her husband well enough to be able to tell when he meant something seriously.

“Have you got him?” he asked.

“Yeah.”

“Ready?”

“Yes I said.”

“OK. One, two, three.”

They both picked up the bundle and could tell that it was going to be a heavy load.

“It’s really heavy,” she said in a faltering groan.

“Get a good grip or we’ll drop him.”

“You go first,” said the woman. And then added fearfully: “What if there’s a snake?”

“Oh, will you shut the hell up and get a move on,” said the man. He turned around so he was facing the bushes. The ravine was deep and it took them about twenty minutes to get to the bottom of it. They walked slowly, trying not to trip over any stones. Each of them could hear nothing but the other’s agitated breathing. When they got to the bottom they dropped the bundle, brushed off their clothes, and looked at each other with relief. They were sure no one had seen them. He took her by the hand and they hurried up the slope until they got back to the bushes. The car was right where they’d left it. Then they noticed they’d left the trunk open. They were walking one behind the other and, when the man went to close the trunk, he pulled his wife back. Both stood still, as if hypnotized. Inside was another lifeless body, bigger and bulkier than the one they’d left at the bottom of the ravine. Devastated, they stared at each other, neither uttering a single word. Who had put it there? Had they been seen? The woman began to sob with a dry, tearless moan.

“Shut up and grab the feet,” ordered the man, forgetting to keep his voice down. His tone was an inescapable imperative.

“One, two, three, up,” he said as he lifted the body, taking it out of the car with the help of his wife and throwing it to one side. He closed the trunk; they picked up the body again and, without another word, began down the same path. This time they didn’t look as carefully as the first and got to the bottom faster. They dropped the second body a few meters from the first. They looked around and, seeing nothing out of the ordinary, went back up almost at a run. They were careful not to leave footprints. They arrived back up by the bushes and took a last look around.

They checked and saw that everything was in order. They got in the car. The man started the car, backed up, and quickly drove away. He accelerated even more until the ravine became just a speck back in the distance.

They didn’t pass any other cars on the city streets. Before they reached their house, rain began to fall in a torrential downpour and both felt it was like a cleansing salvation. They turned the last corner and the woman got out in front of their house to open the gate. They went in and all was calm. In the morning they’d burn their clothes, wash the car, and get a bit more sleep.

They locked all the doors and in their room the woman undressed and put on her nightie. She took two tranquilizers. He appeared with an enormous glass of rum.

“Oh great,” the man said as he calmly undressed sitting on the bed. “I didn’t notice I’d put on my favorite shirt.”

“Don’t worry,” said the woman, already falling asleep, “tomorrow I’ll buy you a new one.”

“Paranoica City” © Mildred Hernández. By arrangement with the author. Translation © 2014 by Anne McLean. All rights reserved.

Paranoica city

Oíste ese ruido? —susurró la mujer a su marido e, incorporándose en un codo sobre la cama, abrió totalmente los ojos.

          —¿Qué ruido? —preguntó él soñoliento.

          —Parece que viene del patio, hay alguien en el techo o en la cocina —dijo ella asustada.

          —Levantémonos. Andá a ver a los niños, en lo que yo saco la pistola —ordenó él en voz baja y se despertó por completo.

          Mientras la mujer iba presurosa hacia la habitación de los niños el hombre sacó la pistola del armario, la revisó y se cercioró de que estaba lista para disparar. De prisa se puso las pantuflas, y entonces escuchó con mayor claridad: había alguien en la parte trasera de la casa, seguramente en la cocina. No habían encendido la luz  y los dos se habían movido en el mayor silencio. Desde la puerta de su habitación el marido hizo señas a su mujer de que permaneciera oculta. Él esperó y cuando lo creyó oportuno caminó sigilosamente hasta que, en la cocina, a unos cuatro metros de él, divisó a un hombre que de espaldas estaba abriendo gavetas y metía en un costal lo que encontraba a su paso. Pensó como en un destello que si le hablaba éste podría atacarlo, así que sin pensarlo más, cuando lo tuvo en la mira, le disparó dos veces en la espalda. La mujer sólo escuchó dos fogonazos secos, como dos cohetillos perdidos en las tinieblas y corrió en busca de su marido.

          —¿Qué pasó? —dijo, y escuchó su propia voz a punto de estallar en llanto—. ¿Estás bien?

          —Sí. No te preocupés, pero creo que maté al maldito —dijo el hombre acercándose y dándole un puntapié al cuerpo tendido en el suelo.

          —¿Y qué hacemos? ¿Llamamos a la policía?

          —¿Estás loca? ¿Querés que por esta basura me vaya a la cárcel? Arreglate rápido que lo vamos a ir a tirar a Las Guacamayas.

          La mujer miró a su marido y sin exhalar un suspiro fue a su cuarto y buscó un yins viejo, un sudadero y sus tenis de hacer aeróbicos. No pensaba en nada. Su marido, luego de comprobar que ni la servidumbre ni nadie en los alrededores se había despertado, entró en la habitación y se cambió de ropa.

          —Vamos a envolverlo en unas bolsas negras y luego lo metemos al carro —dijo a la mujer que lo miraba como autómata.

          —Bueno —dijo ella y sintió un leve escalofrío.

          Ya en la cocina, y sin hacer el menor ruido, el hombre levantó el cuerpo del piso, mientras la mujer iba abriéndole las puertas hasta que finalmente llegaron al garaje. Ella abrió el baúl del BMW y sintió el golpe del cuerpo sin vida en la alfombra del carro.

          —¿Querés que vaya contigo? —casi suplicó para que la respuesta fuera no.

          —Ni modo que voy a ir yo solo. Abrime el portón y te subís después de que saque el carro y cerrés con llave —dijo el hombre.

          La mujer obedeció. Estaba impulsada por una voz que no era la suya y que no le permitía ver más allá de sus acciones. Cuando cerró el portón, se metió las llaves en la bolsa delantera del pantalón y vio que en la calle todo permanecía en calma. Se subió al carro con cuidado y rapidez y su marido aceleró hasta el fondo. Dos calles después encendió las luces del vehículo. Ninguno pronunció una palabra hasta que llegaron a las cercanías del barranco.

          —¿Estás seguro que no hay nadie?

          —No te preocupés, por estos rumbos no se asoman ni las moscas.

          —¿Viste bien? ¿No hay otro carro?

          —No, no hay nada mujer, ya te lo dije.

          —Es que estoy muy nerviosa.

          —Yo también lo estoy, pero tenemos que hacerlo. No hay remedio.

          —Todo por tu culpa. Si no fueras tan

          —Sí, ya sé. Si no fuera tan violento, ahora quizás, en este mismo momento estarían haciéndonos lo mismo, o a los niños.

          —Sí, tenés razón, disculpame. Pero de todas formas me siento nerviosa. Estoy al borde de un ataque de histeria —la mujer se retorció las manos frías y sudorosas y con un movimiento automático se alisó el cabello.

          —¿Qué hora es? —preguntó él.

          —Las dos y diez. Tengo frío. Me están castañeteando los dientes.

          —Procurá calmarte —dijo el hombre—. Me vas a poner más nervioso.

          —¿Y si nos descubren?

          —Nadie, oíste, nadie oyó ni vio nada —la voz del hombre sonó amenazante—. Callate ya por favor.

          —No recuerdo si cerré la puerta con llave. ¿Y si los niños se despiertan y lloran?

          —Hacé shó querés. Ya te dije que no va a pasar nada.

          La mujer lo observó de frente y vio esa expresión de furia que siempre la dejaba petrificada. Prefirió ver por la ventanilla del automóvil y mirar atentamente lo que sucedía a su alrededor. Todo estaba en silencio.

          —Llegamos —dijo el hombre, y sintió que su voz había sonado hueca. Vio a la mujer de reojo y dándole una leve palmadita en el hombro, como para que reaccionara, le ordenó—: Bajemos.

          La noche estaba oscura y no se escuchaba el menor rumor. No había luna y el sitio parecía desierto. El hombre estacionó el auto entre unos matorrales que casi lo cubrían por completo. Ellos solamente lograban reconocerse por el brillo desmedido de sus ojos. Sus voces se convirtieron en leves susurros, como pequeños movimientos casi imperceptibles de hojas.

          —No hagás ruido con las llaves —imploró la mujer.

          —Callate —dijo el hombre.

          Sigilosamente se acercaron al baúl del carro y, antes de que él se decidiera a abrirlo, observaron con detenimiento hacia todos lados. Nada. Sentían como si el tiempo se hubiese detenido y estuviesen viviendo la eternidad.

          —No hay nadie —murmuró ella.

          —No hay nadie —repitió él entre dientes.

          —Abrilo entonces.

          Él abrió el baúl del carro y ambos vieron el interior.

          —Agarrale los pies. Yo voy a sostenerlo por arriba. Caminemos un poco y lo dejamos entre los matorrales de aquel lado —dijo él.

          —No —dijo ella—. Allí lo van a encontrar rápido. Mejor bajémoslo al barranco. Hasta el fondo.

          —Que lo dejemos ahí, te digo—. El hombre estaba exasperado.

          —Si empezamos esto —murmuró ella decidida— terminémoslo bien. Si no lo bajamos me voy ahora mismo.

          —No seás idiota. Calmate o te dejo con él —. El hombre la miró con odio inaudito.

          La mujer cerró la boca. Conocía lo suficiente a su marido como para saber cuando le hablaba en serio.

          —¿Ya lo agarraste? —dijo él.

          —Ya.

          —¿Lista?

          —Sí, te digo.

          —Bien. A la una, a las dos, a las tres.

          Ambos subieron el bulto y sintieron cómo iba a ser una pesada carga.

          —Pesa mucho —dijo ella en un gemido entrecortado.

          —Cargalo bien o se nos va a caer.

          —Caminá vos primero —dijo la mujer. Y agregó atemorizada—: ¿Y si hay culebras?

          —Ah, callate de una vez por todas y caminá rápido —dijo el hombre. Se dio media vuelta hasta colocarse de cara a los matorrales.

          El barranco era profundo y tardaron unos veinte minutos en llegar a su centro. Caminaban lentamente procurando no tropezarse con las piedras. Cada uno sólo lograba escuchar la agitada respiración del otro. Cuando llegaron al fondo tiraron el bulto, se sacudieron la ropa y se vieron con alivio. Estaban seguros que nadie los había visto. Él la tomó de la mano y presurosos subieron hasta llegar de nuevo a los matorrales. El carro estaba donde lo habían dejado. Entonces se percataron de que habían dejado el baúl abierto. Caminaron uno detrás del otro y, cuando el hombre iba a cerrar la portezuela del baúl, jaló a su mujer. Ambos quedaron como hipnotizados. En el sitio había otro cuerpo sin vida, más grande y robusto que el que habían dejado hacía poco en el fondo del barranco. Se miraron desolados y no pronunciaron ni una sola palabra ¿Quién lo había colocado allí? ¿Los habían descubierto? La mujer empezó a sollozar con un gemido seco, sin lágrimas.

          —Callate y agarralo de los pies —ordenó el hombre olvidándose de hablar suave. Su voz era un imperativo ineludible.

          —Un, dos, tres, ya —dijo él levantando el cuerpo, sacándolo del carro con ayuda de su mujer y tirándolo a un lado. Cerró el baúl, levantaron de nuevo el cuerpo y, sin decirse nada más, iniciaron otra vez el trayecto. Ahora no observaron con tanta atención como la primera vez y llegaron más pronto al fondo. Tiraron el segundo cuerpo a unos cuantos metros del primero. Observaron y como no vieron nada fuera de lo común subieron casi corriendo. Tuvieron cuidado de no dejar marcas de zapatos. Llegaron a los matorrales y dieron un último vistazo a su alrededor.

          Revisaron y todo estaba en orden. Se subieron al carro. El hombre puso en marcha el vehículo, retrocedió y salió rápidamente. Aceleró aún más hasta que el barranco se tornó en un punto lejano en la memoria.

          Ningún otro automóvil circulaba por las calles de la ciudad. Antes de llegar a su casa, la lluvia empezó a caer a torrentadas y ambos sintieron que era como un aviso de higiénica salvación. Cruzaron la última esquina y frente a su casa la mujer se bajó a abrir el portón. Entraron y todo estaba en calma. Ya en la mañana quemarían la ropa, lavarían el carro, dormirían un poco más.

          Cerraron todas las puertas con llave y ya en su habitación la mujer se desnudó y se puso su ropa de dormir. Se tomó dos tranquilizantes. Él apareció con un enorme trago de ron.

          —Es una barbaridad —dijo el hombre mientras con parsimonia se desvestía sentado en la cama—. No me fijé y me puse esta camisa que me gustaba tanto.

          —No te preocupés —dijo la mujer ya dormitando— mañana te compro otra. 

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