remember the night that the officer hung up his boots.
Every morning, coming out to work, I was with him. The front door is opposite to mine, I greeted him with a "good morning", although he always only answered with a surly nod. His eyes, overshadowed by the green shade of the beret, and barely touched mine.
I wanted something to happen more among us, if only to walk together down the alley that led us to the avenue, and maybe even talk a little bit, perhaps you could invite me to the movies or a drink after work. But no, they never talk about anything, he just used dry "good morning." Although I am content to walk behind him, imagining how it would go out of his arm.
At nine o'clock I turned off the light and opened the curtain fell a smooth blade and I thought the military would not come out smoking a cigarette. There was, sitting on the steps of his door with a cigar in his mouth and boots in his hands, looked carefully, he began to rub with a cloth. They were quite bright but seemed to be convinced, away to observe the better, then again rub spit on them from time to time. As believed not, the revising them away on all sides, gave him a puff on his cigar and slowly bathed in smoke while together at the laces.
His wife called him from the house, she always called him with the same desperate scream, a piercing scream and unbearable.
"I never cry so I said softly, stroking her face from the window.
ears were covered with his hands as he fixed his eyes on the floor, when screams became even more acute, scratched his shaved head, got up and walked through the door.
I waited, the boots were on the step and the door open, after a while, the light of a room went out.
went out, took his boots and hung them on the shoulder, lit another cigarette, then I lit mine, used to smoke with him. When was the cigarette to his mouth, I took the cigar mouth. Inhale, inhale. He took the smoke, took out the smoke.
When finished smoking, he threw the boots to the cable, the cable that connected our home, tried several times but nothing, I fell to the floor.
"With a ladder," he said.
He went home, went to the stairs, I smiled, leaned against the pole, looked carefully at the bottom of the alley, then to the entrance, then looked toward the windows of nearby houses, he went looking for me window and I got down quickly. When I returned to my room, I was going up, hung up his boots next to the pole, got out and was a long time looking at them with hands on hips. He went home, went out with a broom and put the boots to the middle of the alley.
shook his head slowly as if to say: yes, there are fine, just inside the cable. He passed his hand several times on his head shaven, entered the house, the lights went out.
Now we can only hang your wife, I and a weak chuckle escaped me that scared me in the darkness of the room.
In the morning I left home smiling, thinking that now that he had left the military, finally go for a ride and could even smoke together in the park. Was submerged deep in my thoughts when I heard his door open. To have it in front of me I was so surprised I could not even cast the scrubbing "good morning". His eyes were open and blink several times, I noticed that he saw me with his eyebrows bend, I could not think more than offer a weak and stupid smile. He said nothing and kept going.
I waited to put out enough and when she turned the corner, lifted his face toward the cable. The boots were gone.
Julie Vega
Every morning, coming out to work, I was with him. The front door is opposite to mine, I greeted him with a "good morning", although he always only answered with a surly nod. His eyes, overshadowed by the green shade of the beret, and barely touched mine.
I wanted something to happen more among us, if only to walk together down the alley that led us to the avenue, and maybe even talk a little bit, perhaps you could invite me to the movies or a drink after work. But no, they never talk about anything, he just used dry "good morning." Although I am content to walk behind him, imagining how it would go out of his arm.
At nine o'clock I turned off the light and opened the curtain fell a smooth blade and I thought the military would not come out smoking a cigarette. There was, sitting on the steps of his door with a cigar in his mouth and boots in his hands, looked carefully, he began to rub with a cloth. They were quite bright but seemed to be convinced, away to observe the better, then again rub spit on them from time to time. As believed not, the revising them away on all sides, gave him a puff on his cigar and slowly bathed in smoke while together at the laces.
His wife called him from the house, she always called him with the same desperate scream, a piercing scream and unbearable.
"I never cry so I said softly, stroking her face from the window.
ears were covered with his hands as he fixed his eyes on the floor, when screams became even more acute, scratched his shaved head, got up and walked through the door.
I waited, the boots were on the step and the door open, after a while, the light of a room went out.
went out, took his boots and hung them on the shoulder, lit another cigarette, then I lit mine, used to smoke with him. When was the cigarette to his mouth, I took the cigar mouth. Inhale, inhale. He took the smoke, took out the smoke.
When finished smoking, he threw the boots to the cable, the cable that connected our home, tried several times but nothing, I fell to the floor.
"With a ladder," he said.
He went home, went to the stairs, I smiled, leaned against the pole, looked carefully at the bottom of the alley, then to the entrance, then looked toward the windows of nearby houses, he went looking for me window and I got down quickly. When I returned to my room, I was going up, hung up his boots next to the pole, got out and was a long time looking at them with hands on hips. He went home, went out with a broom and put the boots to the middle of the alley.
shook his head slowly as if to say: yes, there are fine, just inside the cable. He passed his hand several times on his head shaven, entered the house, the lights went out.
Now we can only hang your wife, I and a weak chuckle escaped me that scared me in the darkness of the room.
In the morning I left home smiling, thinking that now that he had left the military, finally go for a ride and could even smoke together in the park. Was submerged deep in my thoughts when I heard his door open. To have it in front of me I was so surprised I could not even cast the scrubbing "good morning". His eyes were open and blink several times, I noticed that he saw me with his eyebrows bend, I could not think more than offer a weak and stupid smile. He said nothing and kept going.
I waited to put out enough and when she turned the corner, lifted his face toward the cable. The boots were gone.
Julie Vega
