was a finger, nothing else. What face or profile? What did it matter? It was a finger, nothing else. Could it really be that bad? I knew that if he was aware that he could be really terrible. And yet, one finger seemed to have you hypnotized. Appeal to him as few women had managed to do throughout his life. Clear that few women had the color, the smell, the texture. Few women had made him feel as good as I could get one finger. Only one finger of bourbon.
it really could be so bad?
took the small glass, thick glass bottom and carved, and lifted him place very slowly up to eye level. Movement so carefully concealed that some fear, as if only one drop of that elixir could make blowing up the room, but also foreshadowed an impulse of desire content of morbid curiosity about the properties that could bring.
knew exactly what it was capable of bourbon. Too well. So managed to win and forced to leave that hint of a spell. The image of her daughters scared while watching the fights with his wife, or when it caused him to stumble around the house to throw him into the street, after presenting it at dawn, almost unconscious, boasting of having drunk what they had to live that month ... Those pathetic pictures of his past life side by side crossed his mind like a sharp knife, immediately freeing him from the attraction of that glass of bourbon.
But, only one finger ...
Those around him knew nothing of his last days. New city, new job, the same family. It was not easy, but managed to recover in full. Promised much and accomplished almost everything. It was a matter of days, rather a number of years. Much time fighting as he had never imagined I'd have to do, to feel disgusted by everything and everyone, and true self-repulsion; time to learn again to live without having to start each day with a drink as invigorating as lethal, from which was connecting up one after another until he was hurrying down the round.
was astonished to think how much things had changed, how they now respected themselves and how this situation was reflected in the love and understanding she received from those around him. Now I just need it to live, the love of his family, the presence of his friends, an occasional cigarette, something harmless and enjoyable sex a weekend, maybe an interesting journey ... It was nice to live well.
And that was before the finger of bourbon, she might be calling him with seduction infallible. Could not know, would not rather, because he had learned not to listen to your voice. There was not much mystery, only had to disarm it of course had charm. Neither appealed to him and his copper-colored syrupy, and his laconic movement to turn the glass gently from side to side, or the peaceful and evocative scent that seemed to escape from those tiny waves of water from Tennessee. How was it possible that none of those present were drinking? Those lawyers were vulgar people. The firm itself was pretty scrawny, with nearly all workers piled in this room. At least he had his small office.
was barely nine o'clock at night but this was a party at after all, right? However, all went back and forth with beer bottles and glasses of wine, drinks as boring and ordinary as a sip of water. He, however, had opted for the juice, pineapple or apricot flavors with some personality, with poise. Was not that, at the end of the day?
was only a finger of bourbon, apparently so insignificant that no one seemed to notice him. A while ago that no one spoke, since he shook hands with the fellow who was retiring and apologized before going to the bathroom. On leaving went to his office, where he saw the whole movement of the evening. He sat at his table and rummaged in her drawers. I wanted a folder that kept some old jokes with which one partner and he had joked a few weeks ago. The folder was not there. Have you saved really those jokes? Then ran his fingers with something pleasant to the touch, it seemed leather. Grasped the object and slowly pulled the drawer. As was found to have revealed it was an old trunk, its trunk, crowned by the shot glass she had been given in the "Lost Weekend", a local who was a regular for some time.
had watched the clip with a strange sense of unease, as if a small child and that object, a noise coming from his closet at night. Who put it there? Perhaps himself? Of course it was him! Who else? But when?
course, was the gift. I was going to give it to the partner he was leaving. He must have saved there days ago, weeks maybe, when he got the idea. It had been a hectic time at the law which certainly was of the head. Would give an instant, of course, but first wanted to check it was OK ... Yes ... it was not broken ... and stained ... Great! and would be empty, of course, had to check.
took the cup and placed it on the table. It was beautiful, very beautiful, and elegant, with a figure carved in the shape and a firm footing, as must be the type of vessels. There, amid the desk covered with papers, seemed to be something special. Then unscrewed the cap and carefully, leaned to the pouch. He felt his heart racing. Began to feel warm. Gasped.
and the liquid began to fall.
seemed to be the slow motion, or maybe it was up to them, it was pouring with adequate precision to perpetuate the moment. He saw the last drop down and breathed deeply. Yes
remained something in the flask. Not much.
One finger, nothing else.
A colleague approached him to ask if she wanted to dance. "Dancing him? No, thank you very much, he was a klutz. The chief secretary offered a sandwich soon after. That girl was beautiful. He refused the offer and watched her go. Yes, of course was a good guy.
He looked down and watched the bourbon in the glass, then returned to fetch the Secretary among the people. I had nice legs, tall and shapely. Was it mandatory that all secretaries will be wearing skirts? His bust was the most erotic, but the best, no doubt, smile.
was a girl so nice! I felt like one of ... He shook his head and thought of his wife. For a few seconds remembered the last time they made love and said to himself that he was a lucky man. What nonsense to think? There were many dangers in the world, many ways to shatter the lives. If there was something mean in life was being unfaithful to his wife. Anything but that. I knew many families torn apart by a moment of awkward lust. He, ever. It was a good man.
sighed and felt proud of it.
He then turned decisively and picked up the glass, this time without much ceremony. Liquid looked and smiled. A finger of bourbon. God, just one finger! And there are so many horrible things in this world ... He opened his mouth as much as he could and emptied the contents of the glass in it.
As the drink touched his throat, closed his eyes and sat down with both hands on the table. The liquor went all the way to the stomach like a snake crawling swiftly stalking its prey, and upon arrival, felt curled inside.
had the sudden urge to mourn, seemed an internal struggle. He thought of his wife and their daughters, the fellow who was retiring and could not suppress angry tears.
There are so many horrible things in this world ...
struck the table with his fist as hard as he could and bade farewell to those present before leaving. I needed a drink. The shot had warmed the tongue. Look for a bar, ask another bourbon and would be back quickly to cover up their flavor with pineapple juice.
Only a drink and it's over.
One finger, nothing else.
0 comments:
Post a Comment