by Wudson Silva
I went up the hill towards my house. I was really comfortable in the seat of my car, putting my left arm out the window and laying my head to the back of the seat. I was beaten and slightly drunk.
The white flower stayed on the seat next to me, when I laid my eyes upon it I felt a deep aversion for it. My intention was to throw the flower in the garbage. I should have done it on my way home, but I only thought about this when I was already in the garage. Even so, I took the rose, got off the car and…
— I heard you visited your mother, today — said Madalena. — Miracles happen! To whom is this flower, Isaias?
— It is for you! — I said with some difficulty; I was going to throw it away, anyway.
— Really?
— Here, take it!
I left Madalena there and went to the kitchen. Gabriel, my youngest son, was fighting with his sister over a colored plastic cup. Maria is already thirteen and still behaves like a spoiled child. When is she growing up? Fighting over a cup?
— Leave with him and go do your homework! — I told her, grabbing her by the hair and throwing her out of the kitchen.
— But the cup is mine!
— Shut up or I will shove it down your throat!
I took the cup from Gabriel’s hands, put it away on the top of the cabinet and smacked his head so that he stops teasing his sister. Both left crying. That will teach them a lesson!
It was night.
I didn’t even realized I stayed one hour and a half in the bathroom.
I hope this detective keeps his word and finds out who are Judith’s murderers in a week. Thank God tomorrow is Thursday.
Today, thank God, I am going to bed early.
Thursday