Mis días en la única oficina de contadores del pueblo, transcurren exactamente iguales. Puedo pasar horas sepultado bajo torres de papeles, cuentas, cuentas y más cuentas. A veces siento que trabajo solo, soy completamente invisible para mis compañeros.
Ya me he acostumbrado a esto, a tal punto, que prefiero almorzar dentro de mi oficina y así, no tener que encontrarme con incómodas miradas cruzadas. Esperé a que todos se marcharan primero, para luego hacerlo yo. Los escuché haciendo planes, para ir a celebrar juntos la llegada del verano. No vivo tan lejos, por lo que caminar es mi terapia a tantos números.
De camino a casa, paso por la misma tienda de abarrotes, tomo una pequeña cantidad de semillas en una bolsa, le dejo una moneda a la señora de la caja, que por cierto nunca la veo, y me voy al parque a sentarme un rato, a dar de comer a las ardillas. Estoy así, hasta que comienza a oscurecer.
Siempre parece que es otoño, todo está lleno de hojas de arce. Pero no me molesta, por el contrario, le da un aire nostálgico al paisaje. En el parque hay muchos arbustos con flores; ahí busco la más hermosa y la tomo.
Cuando faltan pocas calles para llegar, hay un terreno con un pequeño cementerio. Me gusta entrar para observar las esculturas funerarias. Hay tumbas muy cuidadas y hay otras que por el contrario, se ven que no han sido visitadas en un largo tiempo. Antes de salir, dejo la flor que tomé del parque, precisamente en una de esas tumbas olvidadas.
Cuando por fin llego a la entrada de mi casa, me doy cuenta que mi vecina siempre tiene el mismo comportamiento, está en su mecedora y cuando me ve, se detiene de golpe sin quitarme la mirada de encima. Ella es una señora de unos 60 años. La visita mucha gente, dicen que es buena médium. Yo no creo en esas tonterías. Levanto mi mano para saludarla, pero ella sabe que lo hago sin ganas; y me corresponde medio esbozando una sonrisa. Estoy tan cansado, que caigo rendido de sueño y no recuerdo más nada hasta el día siguiente. Y todo se repite.
Siempre parece que es otoño, todo está lleno de hojas de arce. Hoy llegué al cementerio con la flor más hermosa que encontré, busqué la tumba, pero ésta vez decidí limpiar la lápida. No recuerdo cuando fue la última vez que lo hice. No debí haberlo hecho, era mi nombre el que estaba escrito.
My days in the only accountant's office in town, go exactly the same. I can spend hours buried under towers of papers, bills, bills, bills and more bills. Sometimes I feel like I work alone, completely invisible to my colleagues.
I've gotten used to this, so much so, that I prefer to have lunch inside my office so I don't have to encounter uncomfortable cross looks. I waited for everyone to leave first, and then I did. I heard them making plans, to go celebrate the arrival of summer together. I don't live that far away, so walking is my therapy to so many numbers.
On my way home, I pass by the same grocery store, take a small amount of seeds in a bag, leave a coin with the lady at the cash register, who I never see, and go to the park to sit for a while, to feed the squirrels. I stay like that, until it starts to get dark.
It always looks like fall, everything is full of maple leaves. But it doesn't bother me, on the contrary, it gives a nostalgic air to the landscape. In the park there are many bushes with flowers; there I look for the most beautiful one and take it.
When there are only a few streets to go, there is a plot of land with a small cemetery. I like to enter to observe the funerary sculptures. There are very well-kept tombs and there are others that, on the contrary, look like they haven't been visited in a long time. Before leaving, I leave the flower I took from the park, precisely in one of those forgotten tombs.
When I finally get to the entrance of my house, I notice that my neighbor always has the same behavior, she is in her rocking chair and when she sees me, she stops suddenly without taking her eyes off me. She is a lady in her 60s. A lot of people visit her, they say she's a good medium. I raise my hand to greet her, but she knows that I do it unwillingly; and she reciprocates with a half-smile. I'm so tired, I fall asleep and don't remember anything else until the next day. And everything repeats itself.
It always looks like fall, everything is full of maple leaves. Today I arrived at the cemetery with the most beautiful flower I could find, I looked for the grave, but this time I decided to clean the tombstone. I don't remember when was the last time I did it. I shouldn't have done it, it was my name that was written on it.
Un final triste e inesperado.
Espero lo hayas disfrutado tanto como yo al escribirlo.
A sad and unexpected ending.
I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did writing it.
You have a great sense of horror. You build atmosphere slowly. You are never impatient to reach the climax. And your punch line really hits home.
A very good job with this short story. Thank you for posting it in the Ink Well community.
Thanks for the support. I love writing this kind of stories. Whenever I can I will publish :))
I love this, @mayellig. Have you ever seen the movie The Others with Nicole Kidman? I think you would love that movie. Thank you for sharing your work in The Ink Well. It's delightful!
Thank you. I have seen The Others. I loved that movie, as well as Sixth Sense with Bruce Willis. I like movies that imprint terror, but with a completely different ending than expected. Thanks for supporting my work :))
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