(based in my own short story
“¡Qué siga la función!)
A sunny Sunday afternoon, in
front of a cinema, a couple are talking to the girl who sell the tickets. They
turn towards the streets. He seems furious; she looks with calmly
tranquility, it seems she make a face which we tought to consider an ironic
smile. They cross the zebra crossing to the pedestrian area and start
talking…
—I told you —the man in a grey
suit, nearly 45 years old, his hair turning white—, I wish we’d bought the
tickets before. It’s not posible at the last minute…
—If only you had been in a hurry
—she answers, ten years younger, just opening lightly her mouth, as if
her pink lipstick talk automatically.
—I was all the time telling you
to be faster, and you… one hour making up, another choosing the dress. It was
for nothing, it didn’t help you to hide the wrinkles, and this dress is
horrible.
—Sure, Mr. fashion —she
continues, while she feigns to text a message on the mobile—, If only you had
bought them, according that today its the last show…
—How? With servi-caixa service? With
any of the credits cards you did have all the time?
—Not my fault if this month we
are plenty of events: business dinners, my cousin’s wedding… In the wardrobe
there were only out-of-season clothes, honey, I needed to borrow all the cards.
—I haven’t know that every month
clothes-season is changing!
—I’d rather you didn’t groan on
public, dear. By the way, I don’t know how this nerves to watch the last Woody
Allen film, I guess it’s for sleep, as all he did. My sister told me it’s slow
and extremely boring. Completely before this time, as his glasses and trousers.