May has come with its flowers, and with it this blog's first birthday. The first thing I wrote was: "This blog is a result of the insistence of those who eventually tired of hearing me and do not read me."
Well, to celebrate the first anniversary I leave with a story, a bit longer than you are used routinely to read me. If you have patience and arrive at the end you will receive my thanks, and if it comentaís, thanks are endless.
debt
The day had been stressful. He missed the warmth of home and relax with a refreshing shower, a glass of liquor splendid and a good book, but the subway ride seemed interminable. When I reached my stop and went outside, took a deep breath the polluted air of the city, which seemed to me pure and refreshing.
At home I checked, as I do out of habit, the mailbox. Was filled with advertisements, receipts and an envelope with no return address caught my attention by the gothic font used to write my name. My first reaction was to open that envelope, but the appearance of some neighbors and their conversation made me give up.
Once settled, I picked up the contents of the mailbox that was almost forgotten in the furniture of the hall along with the keys. I went back to hold in your hand the damn envelope. The paper was of a strange, thick and rough. I admired the written word, apparently with a pen. I thought, "Who in this day and age can use a pen?".
imagined the author choosing among several, the quill pen properly, with the thickness just enough to retain the bevel tip necessary and ink to write, at least one or two whole words. I thought it would be someone who knew the lyrics Gothic and technique to draw it. The ink used is not the usual seemed to be bought at a stationery store was ocher and every word was topped with a twist, as a point that did not light reading.
I read my first and last name, no more, no address or anything to indicate which person sent it. However, wearing a postmark on the top, the kind that are stamped on the letters without a seal. The seal! Had not fallen into that detail. He was not wearing any, at least hit, but I had drawn with great care, with the same ink and strokes.
I turned and went back to check that did not include any return address that could show the origin of the letter. I also drew attention to the type of closure used on the envelope. I saw traces of a glue that initially seemed pasta, such as those used by artists falleros. A mixture of flour and water.
was so fascinated with the envelope that I did not rip an inch of that role, so I got hired on with the knife. When I got open, took out the writing paper: it was the same material as the envelope. But my amazement did not end there.
I was shocked when seeing, with excellent penmanship, the beginning of this letter: "Valencia, 4 May the year of our Lord 1810. Your Grace, when live read this letter, I wish, in Grace with God and in the coming years, this humble servant who has trouble calculating ... "
A strange sensation that caused him to stop quickly and its contents on top the low table before him. Gazing intently and I got a thousand questions, who, how, when, why? Catch her again with the intention of clarifying all doubts.
took me a while to get used to the letter but I managed to find out its contents. Apparently one Don Alfredo Garcia Castellnovo and had a debt to an ancestor of mine who could not repay because it's sudden death at the hands of some natives of Brazil. Tried to find someone in your family without success, and being a man of his word, ordered his law firm after several generations is given, this letter, the first live offspring reachable, and you repay the debt.
The next morning, without sleeping, I moved to the center of the city where an antique, a lifelong friend, had his business. Was fascinated to examine the envelope in the back. He said that this role was original, not manufactured from eighty years, and the pasta was stuck with the tab was a mixture of flour and water in proper proportion to serve as an adhesive.
The post office, after giving many kicks and buy lottery for retirees, I indicated that according to the postal registration had sent the letter a law firm. With the left hand direction in which I prepared to clarify the meaning of it all.
The feeling of receiving an inheritance that would end all economic ills by passing, flooded my heart and my mind. I went in a taxi to the address the post office, previously had announced my visit in advance through the phone. The place was in the outskirts of the city.
The decoration of the buffet was splendid, stately, sober yet elegant. I was shown into a spacious office where strangely the only furniture were a few shelves on the walls. A nice lady told me that soon I would attend.
The first thrust pierced my side. The burning of the sting out of air left me and made me bend over holding my wound. The gunman, accompanied by two people, looked to be about my age and I talked to collect debt in the same way I would have done his ancestor. The second, fast and accurate, I sectioned the heart, and before the steel foil, leave my body, I could clearly see the satisfaction of my killer.
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