Once upon a time


Once upon a time, there was a sick teenager. Once upon a time, there were desperate parents. And once upon a time, there was a wretched but well-known doctor.


“I need to be alone with the patient. You can wait in the lobby.”




And that’s when her parents walked out the door. And it was then that he unbuttoned her bra “because it was necessary” to “massage” her breasts. And that’s when he kissed her on the mouth. Softly, very softly, as though his lips were made of paper. And that’s when he lowered his hand inside her panties on the cusp of reaching to the point of masturbation. She, silent and still with fear, does nothing. She feels her cheeks flushed with warmth and the unwelcome sensation that this couldn’t be happening to her while hoping that everything would soon return to normalcy. A gust of wind whips the door that separates them from the real world. He is startled. He knows it hurts, of course he knows, but it does not matter. “I know you’ll never say anything because of your character,” he says in her ear.




Comunicación no verbal



Esa iniciativa de levantarte del bar cuando yo me despido del resto. Esa súplica de que te cuente historias que jamás quisiste escuchar antes. Esa espontaneidad de sujetarte de mi brazo. Esa sonrisa divertida que despierta de su largo letargo. Ese mundo que te parecía gris y de repente te hace gracia y quieres comértelo a bocados. Esa forma de despedirte de mí diferente al resto. Esa ansia de generar nuevas conversaciones minutos previos a cruzar la calle y seguir con nuestros caminos. De repente sé más de ti. Nos seguimos despidiendo otras tres veces más. Pienso “¿Me volverá a tocar antes de irse?” y me pegas con el paraguas en el trasero.

Te vas y a lo lejos te ríes divertida.

Eres eso para mí.

Comunicación no verbal.


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